


A Visit to Rivendell

by Eldalire



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Childhood, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-14 06:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldalire/pseuds/Eldalire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Legolas is not looking forward to visiting Rivendell.  There isn't anything fun for the little elf to do there!  But his mind just might change when he meets Estel, the rambunctious child of Gondor Elrond has adopted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evening Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> All words that are not in English are in Quenya. There is a word list at the end of the story in alphabetical order!

Legolas was not at all eager to visit with his father’s friend Elrond in Rivendell. The place did not entice him in any way. He pondered things he could do to occupy himself for the next fortnight while he visited, but there was nothing to be done in Imladris except attempt to have a bit of fun with Arwen, who was only a little younger than he, but it was so easy to make her cry that she was hardly any fun at all. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, letting his head rest on the back of his horse’s neck, the little elf’s flaxen hair falling into his face. He closed his big, silvery eyes and blew his shoulder length hair off his nose, only for it to float back down and back into his face.

“Legolas. Sit up. That’s no way for the Prince of Mirkwood to present himself.” Legolas’ father, Thranduil, said, looking back from his own horse just a few paces in front of the young Elf’s, his shimmering gray cloak flowing behind him like a body of water floating in the air. They were accompanied by only two other elves, archers from the Royal Guard who would protect them if need be, though the world was peaceful at that time, and Legolas felt quite awkward. He wished it were just him and his father, so that he might speak freely and honestly without the possibility of judgment or displeasing his ‘subjects’.

“Yes, Father…” Legolas replied, sitting up, but slouching, playing with the braid in his hair, feeling that was the best thing to say.

“What’s wrong, my child?” Thranduil asked, slowing his horse until he was beside his son. “Lord Elrond has been awaiting our visit for some time. I’m sure little Arwen is looking forward to having some company.” Legolas shrugged. He was rather quiet and felt it was easier simply to keep to himself and do as he was told. He looked up absently, admiring the stone arch that the company had passed through. The young elf smiled to himself, looking back at the arch over his shoulder. It simply asked to be climbed on and hung from and jumped off. A Potentially amusing option should Arwen begin weeping. He had nearly forgotten about his father’s question. Legolas was easily immersed in thought and his expansive imagination that he sometimes seemed to leave this world and enter one of his own. He began humming a charming melody he had heard earlier that day from a bird in Lothlorian as they passed on horseback. They had stopped there for the night to visit with Galadriel, for his father and the Elf Queen were very close friends and had not spoken for quite some time. Legolas enjoyed the time he spent in Lorian Forest, and wished he could have stayed there instead of coming to Rivendell. Lothlorian was just so much more calming to Legolas than stark, shimmering Imladris. Maybe it was because he had lived in the forest for his entire life, and was just more comfortable in Lothlorian than Rivendell. But it didn’t matter. He had to do as his father instructed, and his father wanted him to visit in Rivendell for a fortnight while he caught up with Lord Elrond. 

“Legolas,” Thranduil said when he realized his son wasn’t paying attention. The young elf’s attention snapped back to his father. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Adar.” He replied, and then cast down his silvery eyes. Thranduil decided it best to stop prodding and proceeded to the stables where he dismounted his horse, then helped Legolas off of his own. Elrond met them at the stable gate with Arwen at his heals. Legolas heard the little twins giggling up in the garden, but they were of no interest to him. They were too little and far too rambunctious for the little elf, and he didn’t want to be trapped with the little ones for his entire visit. He just kept quiet, trying to keep his gaze down and off Elrond, partially out of respect, but also out of disinterest and the lack of willingness to speak to the intimidating ruler of Rivendell.

“Thranduil. Welcome. And young Legolas! I haven’t seen you since you were but a little sapling of a wood elf.” He smiled down at the little boy who continued to twirl his hair around his thin fingers.

“I am very pleased indeed to see you, Lord Elrond. It has been far too long since we have spoken.” Thranduil smiled, placing his hand on Legolas’ back, giving him a bit of a push forward. “Legolas, go on with Arwen.”

“Arwen, my dear, would you show Legolas to his room for me?” Arwen nodded, her long, dark hair fluttering into her watery eyes. Legolas followed her tentatively and quietly, carrying his small bag of belongings, looking over his shoulder at his father, who waved him off with a smile. He watched Arwen as she walked in front of him in her fluttering lavender dress. She wasn’t so very different from the girls in Mirkwood, but she always had a sort of woeful look to her. She always seemed ready to burst into tears, and it made Legolas nervous. She was like a porcelain doll he didn’t want to break.

“Hello, Legolas.” She cooed in her soft, birdlike voice. She sounded well rehearsed. Elrond had clearly instructed her on how to behave. It was a terribly awkward situation, but there was nothing for it. They were more or less stuck with each other for at least six days.

“Hello, Arwen…” he answered her quietly, carrying his small satchel in front of him, letting it bounce off of his knobby knees. Legolas was built exactly how Elrond described him: like a small tree. He was of a rather average height, but looked taller with his long legs. He was entirely knees and elbows, like the knuckles in a growing sapling in between the new branches. Everything about him was long and thin. His nose was precise and smooth, as was his slender mouth. His eyes were a pale gray-blue, like the shadows in the woods on a sunny day. He was a beautiful child, as most Elfish children are, but perhaps more so in a way. He had a sort of way about him that made him seem more mysterious and glitteringly silent and smooth in everything he did, and it gave him an otherworldly beauty that is difficult to find, even among Elves.

“There is another boy staying with us.” She announced rather randomly and suddenly. Legolas raised one of his eyebrows. His father hadn’t informed him of this. He hoped this new boy would be more interesting and less fragile than Arwen, for Legolas wanted someone to climb trees with. “He is of the race of Men. His mother and father have been slain and my father is taking care of him until he is grown.” She explained. Legolas did not reply. He simply thought quietly to himself. He had never encountered a Man before, and truthfully, he was a bit frightened. Men were greedy and foolish; at least that’s what the stories said. So many men had made so many rash and reckless decisions in the stories of old, and Legolas, as well as most of the other Elfish children, had come to think of all men as such.

“What is he called?” Legolas asked, curious as to how he may address this Man when they did meet, since it was inevitable now.

“Estel.” she answered simply, clearly uncomfortable with Legolas’ presence in her realm of comfort. Legolas nodded. Estel…Hope. What an interesting name for a Man. Such a pristine Elfish name was not fit for any man Legolas had ever heard of.

Arwen walked down one of the long, sunlit corridors and into the room Legolas was to stay in. It was a beautiful room, with a bed carved of smooth, blonde wood and posts that split and divided into the branches of trees. These branches held up a sheer canopy that floated lightly in the breeze from the open window. The room was mostly empty otherwise, except for a candelabrum near the window and an intricate tapestry on the wall opposite the bed. There was a small nightstand, though, topped with a silver tray adorned with delicate silver teacups and a teapot carved carefully with leaves and flowers. Everything in Rivendell was so perfect and intricate. Legolas wondered who did all of it, who carved his bed, who forged these silver teacups? Things in Mirkwood were much more rustic. They drank out of glazed clay cups and slept in simple, but still delicate and decorated, beds with warm woolen blankets. They ate at tables hewn from fallen trees, and there was little evidence of anything sheer, shiny, or smooth. Mirkwood was cozy and beautiful in a more rustic way. Rivendell struck Legolas as sterile and too pristine. He longed for the woods, with its twists and turns and knotty roots; he missed the strong arms of the trees that would hold him and keep him safe. Here, he felt deserted and out of place, too exposed. This place was too big, too sparse.

“Thank you.” Legolas said with a smile, putting his things on the bed, hoping Arwen would take that as a hint to leave. Legolas was a relatively quiet, free spirit, and needed a bit of time to himself. He had been in the company of others for over three days, and he longed for solitude. Arwen seemed to realize this and left in a rather hurried fashion, leaving through the door (which was only a sheer curtain draped from an archway) and ran down the long hall back to the safety of her father’s heel. Legolas sighed, flopping back down on the bed, his light hair flying out around his head like a white-golden halo. He closed his gray eyes slowly and took a deep breath, calming himself, relaxing in a way only he knew how. He smiled, close to contentedness, but was interrupted.

“You’re Legolas, aren’t you?” a shrill voice called from the doorway. The young elf sat up and looked to the door. There, he found a boy, a young boy, about the human equivalent of his own age, looking at him with big, puddle-blue eyes.

“Yes.” Legolas replied with a little smile. Though he had been shaken from his state of enlightenment, this boy was already proving to be entertaining, with his goofy grin and missing teeth. “And you’re Estel.”

“Yes!” the boy answered with a smile. Legolas found his missing teeth amusing. He was a relatively handsome boy, though, with a strong nose and dark, wavy hair that came down to his shoulders. His eyes were bright and appeared to be windows into another world of glittering water and a sparkling sky. Legolas slid off the silken sheets and onto the floor, then walked up to the boy and smiled.

“Have you found anything very fun to do around here?” The young elf asked, batting his straight, light hair out of his face. The boy, Estel, smiled mischievously, his eyes sparkling with the promise of misbehavior. 

“There are lots of fun things to do here. You’ve just got to find them first.” He said. Legolas’ grin grew.

“I’d quite like to find something fun to do.” Legolas cooed, turning to look out the window, but spirit was defeated when he saw the sun retiring under the horizon. “The day is fading, though…” he added, a bit disappointed.

“Well…that’s alright. We can do something fun here. Wait just a second.” The boy ran out of Legolas’ chamber before the young elf could protest, and returned less than a moment later with his slender arms full of blankets, pillows and what appeared to be a stuffed bear. That put Legolas at ease, for he too had brought his favorite stuffed thing: a gray wolf with a smile. Though Estel’s bear seemed in much better spirits than Legolas’ worn out, faded wolf, it was comforting to know he would not be ridiculed for having his stuffed thing. Legolas sat down on the bed again, fishing Gilthoniel, his wolf, out of his bag and snuggled his soft fur against his fair face.

“Who’s that?” the boy asked, smoothing a thick feather comforter next to the bed on the floor.

“Gilthoniel.” Legolas answered a bit tentatively. 

“This is Beorn.” Estel smiled, showing the young elf his own stuffed bear.

“Beorn, like from the stories of Beorn the Skin-Changer?”

“Yes! You know those stories?” Estel asked, thoroughly excited. Legolas nodded. “He reminds me of Tom Bombadil. He’s in the old stories too. Tom Bombadil is the oldest Being in all of Middle Earth.” Legolas nodded again with a broadening smile.

“I think I should like to meet Tom Bombadil.” Legolas cooed in a dreamy, removed sort of way, as he always did when he was imagining something distant. “Estel? What are you doing?” Legolas asked after a moment of daydreaming.

“Making a bed so we can have a sleep over.” Legolas raised an eyebrow. “That’s when you come over to someone else’s chamber and spend the night just for fun.” Legolas nodded in understanding; though he wasn’t sure he quite grasped the logic behind sleeping on the floor, particularly the cold marble his bedroom was decorated with.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to share the bed? It’s big enough for both of us…” Legolas suggested, secretly hoping Estel would refuse the offer. Legolas wasn’t fond of sharing his sleeping arrangements with anyone, even at home. It made him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. The bed was a sacred and safe place for the young elf, and he intended to keep it as such.

“No. It’s not as fun if you sleep in a bed. You can come onto the floor, though. It’ll be fun! We could play games until we go to sleep.” Legolas shrugged, unsure. The floors were all of marble and were not very pleasant to step on, much less sleep on. They were cold and hard, but Estel seemed happy to sleep there, so maybe it wasn’t so very awful. Legolas thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Aw are you sure? I can get more blankets. You’ll hardly realize you’re on the floor! It’ll be fun! We could make a fort under the bed, just like the ones at Helms Deep and the White City! You’ve heard of those, haven’t you?” Legolas nodded. He had, in fact, heard of the military stronghold and the White City in Gondor. He had even gone with his father once to Minas Tirith. “Please, Legolas? It’ll be fun.” The boy’s eyes were so bright and full of adventurous spirit. Legolas shrugged with an unsure smile. “Please?” he asked a final time, his big, blue eyes boring into Legolas’ soul. The young elf finally nodded.

“Yes alright. I’ll sleep next to you under the window. Let’s get more blankets.” Legolas smiled. Estel grinned and stood up, running out of the room, his bare, slapping feet followed by Legolas’ silent footsteps. They headed into the linen closet where Estel tossed a pile of blankets at Legolas. The elf stumbled backwards, but kept his footing, and Estel grabbed his wrist and dragged him back rather quickly to his bedchamber, where the little elf collapsed from the cumbersome bedspreads and sheets. Estel laughed.

“That was fun!” he cooed his voice high and glittering, like rain in a forest.

“Fun? Are you sure?” Legolas replied, laughing lightly.

“Yes it was lots of fun!” he said, taking the corners of the largest, thickest blanket and smoothing it out flat under the window. He then layered three more thinner blankets on top of that, and finally a thin white comforter over that as a cover to sleep under. The boy then returned to his own makeshift bed and placed Beorn on his pillow, proceeding to cover up the bear with his blanket. Legolas smiled, pleased with his new playmate. Estel was the perfect fit for Legolas. Though the boy was almost a perfect foil to the young elf, they got along famously, Estel’s bright smile and mischievous ideas brought out the childishness in the little elf. From early in his life, Legolas had been taught that he must be noble, humble, and obedient, but this boy lit a spark inside the young elf that allowed him to have fun and perhaps even misbehave. It wasn’t that Legolas didn’t usually have fun, but his fun was quiet and controlled; climbing trees, practicing his archery, drawing the little birds that sat in the leafy boughs. This boy was different.

“Could I bring my pillow down there?” the little Elf asked. He wasn’t familiar with the procedure involved in a ‘sleep over’

“Yes of course you can! You have to be cozy!” Estel answered, sitting on his own fluffy pillow. Legolas tossed his pillow down into his next of blankets, then sat down on the ground and carefully placed Gilthoniel on the blankets.

“I suppose it isn’t so terrible down here.” Legolas observed, looking up at the room, then out the window just above his head. It was fun to look at things from another angle. “This must be like what little trees see from the bottom of the forest.” 

“I never thought of that…” Estel answered, looking around as well. “Do trees really have many feelings?” Legolas raised an eyebrow. He thought everyone knew about the thoughts and feelings of trees.

“Yes of course they do! Trees know all sorts of things. They are very old and wise, and if you listen very carefully, trees will tell you stories and secrets! I’ll show you tomorrow when the sun comes up!”

“Alright!” the little boy exclaimed, hugging Beorn tight against his chin. “It’ll be so fun.” He flopped backwards and let his head sink into the pillow, just as the last rays of sunshine glistened through the window, then curled up into a ball on his side, smiling as he closed his eyes. Legolas laid down as well, resting gently on his back, his delicate hands clasped and rested on his chest, and eventually he drifted off into the space between awake and dreaming, the place where Elves slept.

Legolas had been asleep for some time when he was awakened by his father’s voice drifting in from the doorway.

“Legolas!” he whispered urgently, wondering where his son was, for the space on the floor he and Estel were sleeping on was obscure from the door. The little boy sat up and listened, then stood very suddenly, startled, not wanting his father to be frightened.

“I’m here, Adar.” He whispered, fearful of waking Estel. Though Elves could go for very long periods without sleeping, he knew that sleep was precious to Men.

“What are you doing down there?” Thranduil asked, “And still dressed in your traveling clothes? Have you forgotten your night things?” he asked, opening his arms, an invitation for his son to approach, which he did, and hugged his father.

“No…Estel and I were having a sleep over,” he said quietly, a bit frightened at what his father’s reaction would be. Sleeping on the floor was not a noble thing to do, and Legolas was a prince, after all, though sometimes he wished he was not. Thranduil repositioned himself on one knee, so to be more Legolas’ height, and smiled, brushing the silken hair out of his son’s pale eyes. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, Adar.”

“Ah, how I love you, iôn nín.” The tall, fair Elf said to his son with a smile, embracing him again. “You have done nothing wrong. Lord Elrond and I used to have sleepovers as well when I came to visit here. That was when I was small like you.”

“Really?” Legolas smiled, his eyes shining.

“Yes,” Thranduil said, standing and taking his son’s hand, leading him into the bathroom attached to all of the guest bedchambers. He retrieved his son’s night things off the dresser as he passed. “I was far more mischievous than you are, though. Elrond and I got into quite a bit of trouble when we were small.” He lit the candles near the door, cascading light over the bathroom. He sat Legolas on the edge of the sink and helped him unclasp his coat, then pulled his light blue tunic off over his head. He then replaced these garments with a thin white nightshirt with lovely silver beading around the collar and the cuffs. Legolas then kicked off his leggings and pants, replacing them with the thin white pajama bottoms with silver beads around the ankles to match his nightshirt. He smiled. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Yes Adar.” He answered as his father helped him slide off the countertop and back onto the floor.

“Wash your face and hands then clean your teeth. I’ll stay to tuck you in.” Legolas nodded, happy Estel was asleep. He doubted he needed tucking in by Elrond every night. Legolas felt quite discontented without a hug and a kiss from his father before going to sleep.

The little Elf listened obediently, washing in the bowl that was the sink and drying his face and hands on the towel hanging from a silver ring on the wall. He then returned to his makeshift bed on the floor. Thranduil bent down nimbly and kissed his son on the forehead, covering him in the thin, summertime comforter. 

“Goodnight, Adar.” 

“Sleep well, iôn nín. I love you.”

“I love you too, Adar.”

Adar = Father  
Gilthoniel = Star-kindler  
Iôn = Son  
Nín = My


	2. Breakfast in Rivendell

Legolas woke early the next morning, as he always did. He loved the stillness of the young hours of the day, the glowing mist from the many snaking waterfalls, the dew winking at him in the sun as it peeked over the tops of the valley. He sat up on the floor, forgetting for a moment why he was there, but when he looked to Estel, the memories of last night’s frivolity rushed back to him. He smiled, silently chuckling to himself as he looked at the boy. His hair was a mess, in his face and splayed around his head. He was laying on his stomach, with one leg bent up by his side, the other straight. His arms were at his sides like a soldier, his palms facing up to the sky, backwards for the way he was laying. 

The little Elf did not understand how one could twist in such a way while sleeping. Elves were always still when they rested, and settled peacefully in a comfortable position, and moved very little from night to morning.

Legolas stretched his thin arms above his head, like the limbs of a young tree reaching for the sky. He came to the decision that he must get dressed, so climbed carefully onto his high bed and retrieved his satchel, searching through it for the clothes he wished to wear. Though his bag was relatively small, he kept quite a bit inside of it and had to rummage through his favorite books, his pencils, and the extra tips for his arrows he had stored in a small leather pouch. He eventually found what he was looking for: a pale green, silken tunic with a sky blue border, decorated with leaves around the collar, the bottom, and the cuffs. He pulled it on over his head, then began his search again for a matching set of bottoms. After a few moments of searching, he retrieved a pair of blue bottoms to match the hems of his tunic and yanked them on, enjoying the way they swished and waved around his knees before coming to a tie closure just in between his knees and ankles.

Pleased that he was in comfortable, clean clothes, he tiptoed out of the room in his bare feet, carrying his shoes in his hand. He was not sure of the proper etiquette to use in a place such as Imladris, and so he decided to leave his shoes off until he knew for sure. Shoes were not always required in the Woodland Realm and Lothlorien, but Rivendell was a bit different, with its polished marble floors and elegant archways, and Legolas didn’t want to upset anybody. As a prince, he had to make sure he didn’t offend anyone, and Rivendell was such a pristine place, he couldn’t help but think of all the rules that could potentially be in place.

He hadn’t walked for very long when he came to a large central sitting room where his father was speaking with Elrond, both of them laughing and smiling. The little Elf ran on his toes to his father’s chair and climbed into his lap with a smile, nestling himself against Thranduil’s chest. Thranduil laughed at the surprise and gave Legolas a hug.

“Good morning, iôn nín! How was your sleep?”

“Very well, Adar, but Estel moves around quite a lot when he’s sleeping.” He answered, rubbing the morning haze out of his silvery blue eyes. Elrond chuckled a bit.

“Men are strange in the ways of slumber. Estel was very pleased to hear you were coming to visit. He’s been in need of a playmate.”

“You and Estel had a sleepover last night, didn’t you?” Thranduil asked his son. Legolas nodded.

“We slept on the floor near the window. It was lots of fun, though I would have never thought of sleeping on the floor.”

“Sounds just like us, Thranduil.” Elrond said with a smile. Legolas shifted in his father’s lap uncomfortably, suddenly realizing that he was famished. He hadn’t eaten anything since Lothlorien at midday the day before, and that was only a small piece of travelers’ waybread. Though Lembas was sustaining, Legolas had only eaten a bite, and the journey was draining to the little Elf, whose time was usually spent sitting quietly in the trees or drawing pictures to hang on his walls. 

“Adar may I have something to eat?” the young Elf said quietly to his father, not wanting to be rude. He wound his fingers through Thranduil’s long, pin straight hair, as light and delicate as spider’s silk. Legolas’ father and mother were both Sindarin Elves, but his mother’s hair was dark, as was that of most other Sindarin Elves. Thranduil’s golden head, as well as Legolas’ own, was something of an enigma, an oddity. Legolas himself was often called odd, not only because of his hair, but because of his build and his looks. He could have been mistaken for a girl, with his slender features and slim, willowy stature.

“Patience, Legolas. We must wait for Arwen and Estel, and then we will all eat together.”

“Oh let him have something. The poor little thing is already thin.” Elrond laughed, and then leaned forward, reaching to the round table in the middle of the sitting room, between the chairs. He retrieved a shiny gala apple from the bowl on the table and tossed it to Legolas, who caught it from his father’s lap. He smiled, but looked up at his father before eating it.

“Go on.” he said with a joking roll of his silver-blue eyes. His son smiled broadly, biting into the dewy flesh of the fruit, enjoying how crunchy it was. A good crunchy apple is hard to come by, but this one was perfect.

“Thank you.” He chirped quietly in between bites. 

Estel wondered groggily into the room a few moments later, yawning loudly and wiping the morning from his eyes with his sleeve.

“Estel, do remember what I told you? Yawning loudly is…” he paused, waiting for the little boy to finish his thought.

“Rude and…um…”

“inconsiderate.” He finished with a smile.

“I’m sorry. I forgot…I’m so very sleepy. I had a funny dream last night, about an Ent and a Wizard holding a very strange conversation about a field of daisies…” Legolas smiled, trying to hold back a laugh. Elves did not truly slumber. They simply lay suspended between awake and asleep. Legolas didn’t understand dreaming of odd things in sleep. Men talked of such strange things about what they experienced in their slumber. The dreams of Elves were always pleasant and usually made perfect, logical sense, but this was not true of the dreams of men. Legolas often dreamed while awake as well, thinking of funny things, letting his creative mind wander, but couldn’t imagine thinking about some of the things that happened in the dreams of men.

“That is strange indeed, Estel.” Elrond agreed as the little boy sat on the floor in front of him. Elrond took small sections of Estel’s hair in his fingers and began to braid and twist, in the fashion of the Elves, pulling his dark hair up and off of his face.

“Do mine too, Uncle Elrond!” Legolas cooed, slipping off his father’s lap, still holding his half-eaten apple, and sitting patiently next to Estel.

“Legolas,” Thranduil demanded sharply. “Come here.” The young Elf stood up timidly, realizing immediately what he had done wrong. Elrond hadn’t offered to assist Legolas in braiding his hair, and Legolas hadn’t asked in an acceptable fashion. “Legolas that is no way for a prince to act.” He whispered harshly, reprimanding his son’s misbehavior, more for the sake of Elrond. Thranduil didn’t want to give the impression of aloofness in the face of misbehavior, though he normally was very lenient with Legolas. He was a good boy, and rarely did anything worthy of discipline. 

“I’m sorry, Adar…Forgive me, Uncle Elrond…” He recited obediently, feeling tears sting behind his eyes. He didn’t let them show on his face, for all Elves showed little emotion, but he wasn’t spoken to in a harsh tone often, and he was rather embarrassed and perhaps even slightly frightened.

“Oh Thranduil, he’s a little boy!” Elrond said with a smile. 

“But he is also a prince.” Thranduil said, placing his hands on the young elf’s shoulders. Legolas recoiled, looking down at his feet. He often wished he was not royalty. Average elfish children had far more freedom than he.

“Legolas, there is nothing to apologize for. Come, I’ll do yours as well.” Elrond added and gave Thranduil a smirk, which he meekly returned. 

The King of the Woodland Realm was a formidable opponent in war, and his army was a force to be reckoned with. He could be stubborn and terribly frightening in the face of an argument or wrongdoing, however, he was not capable of disciplining his son. Legolas had seen his father’s rage. He remembered when his father had rode into battle in an attempt to aid the Dwarves and how he had chosen to save his own people and turn back instead of risking countless lives in a battle he knew they could not win. The wrath of the Dwarves was incredible. Thorin, and what was left of his people, had to cross into the Woodland Realm on their journeys to the other Dwarf Kingdoms, and Thorin was convinced he had to give Thranduil a piece of his mind. There was nearly a war right then and there, and Legolas had been allowed to sit and witness the meeting along with a collection of his father’s advisors and Dwarves Thorin had brought with him for council. Many ungodly names were called by both sides, but Legolas had never seen his father in such a frenzy. Though he had no desire to do ill before, he was certain he didn’t want to be on the other end of his father’s rage after seeing the spectacle that had been displayed to the Dwarves. Luckily, Thranduil, one of the most formidable Elf Lords in all of Middle Earth, couldn’t bring himself to really and truly holler at his son.

“Thank you, Uncle Elrond!” Legolas chimed, sitting next to Estel, smiling up at his father.

Arwen woke just as soon as Elrond finished braiding Legolas’ hair. He and Estel had been given an identical twirl of braids and twists, and both were very pleased that they mirrored each other. Arwen darted to her father’s side on tiptoe, drifting like a silken cloud. Elrond stood just as she arrived at his side, and motioned for the entire company to follow him into the dining pavilion. They were greeted with a garden of the most beautiful plants: Irises, orange nasturtiums with beautiful, circular leaves climbing up the pillars, and lily-of-the-valley, all in full bloom around a relaxing little waterfall that wound its way down the hillside garden.

“Will Elladan and Elrohir be joining us?” Thranduil asked. Legolas did not enjoy the time he spent with Elrond’s youngest children, the little twin boys. They idealized him in such a way that he never seemed to be able to get rid of them. They worshiped him as one worships a king or a god. They insisted he shoot arrows at this and that, small targets that were far away, because he always hit them. He was well trained in archery, but the twins thought it was some sort of divine gift. They would not give him the privacy even to bathe or dress or use the bathroom. He hoped the twins were not invited to breakfast.

“Oh no…They’ve already eaten…They’re probably about playing in the garden. We shall have a…peaceful breakfast.” Elrond laughed, sitting at the head of the table, Thranduil taking the other end.

“Adar what are we going to eat?” Estel asked, keeling in his chair. Legolas sat next to him quietly, sitting correctly, his hands rested politely in his lap.

“Estel,” Elrond said, motioning down with his hand. Estel sat down correctly, looking to Legolas for guidance, imitating the fashion in which he was seated. “Well, there will be quite a selection. Fruits, breads, jams…I’ve even arranged for drop scones, Legolas.” The boy smiled. The sweet, circular cakes were one of his favorite things to eat, but he had been under the impression that they were something that could only be found at home, in Mirkwood. His eyes shined as everything was laid out before him on the table, a drop scone as big as the little Elf’s head was placed in front of him on a perfect china dish. He sat still, not daring to move until he had been told he was allowed to. Everyone was given a dish and silverware, and after what seemed like far longer than a moment, Elrond finally began eating, allowing everyone else to eat as well.

Eating was a happy and tranquil experience for Elves, and breakfast was no exception. Flowers were arranged in the middle of the table in every color, wafting a fresh scent around the room. A trio of Elves, one playing a violin, one a flute and a third seated at a harp, heightened the mood of calmness and content. They sang beautiful songs, most of them about the great Sundering of the Elves long ago, or tunes reflecting the beauty of Lothlorien, the forest their lyrics depicted. They sang for some time, their voices full of feeling and wonder, precisely how one feels when passing through the Forest of Gold.

Legolas cut his pancake in careful triangles, drizzling them in honey and strawberries before he began eating them daintily and politely with his long silver fork. Thranduil ate in a similar fashion. It was clear that the two were father and son by their mannerisms. They were both rather quiet souls, wise in their own way, and delicate in everything they did. The Sindarin Elves are said to be ‘less wise’ than the High Elves, like Elrond and his family, but the Sindarin Elves most certainly knew how to have fun and throw parties. They were lighthearted and enjoyed games and stories, finding pristine carvings and long, polished stone hallways stark and uninteresting.

Elrond and Arwen were also neat eaters, like most Elves, but were far cleaner in their habits at the table than Wood Elves. Legolas was prone to licking his fingers clean should they become sticky with syrup or jam, something Arwen wouldn’t have dreamed of doing.

Estel, on the other hand, did his best, but was very clearly not fully elf-kind. He began eating with his fork and knife, but slowly shifted to eating with his fingers, becoming frustrated when the blueberries wouldn’t stay in his spoon. Thranduil smiled watching him, for his behavior was something only very young Elfish children did. Legolas was still a very little thing, but he wasn’t a baby. Estel was acting something like an Elfish toddler, and he found it quite amusing. 

“Estel,” Elrond said quietly to the boy. When Estel looked at him, Elrond simply lifted his fork and the boy understood. “You arrived quite late last night,” He continued, looking to Thranduil. “Was there trouble on the road?”

“No, but there was a bit of a delay…” he said looking to his son in obvious mock-exasperation. Legolas smiled and bit his lip.

“What happened?” Estel asked, not catching the sarcasm and hoping for a dramatic recounting of swordfights and legendary Elfish archers. He kneeled in his seat again, leaning over the table to listen.

“Legolas decided to go swimming with some of the other boys, but he did not return with them. They said he had been with them most of the way, but that he ran ahead.” Thranduil continued. “I was quite frightened, as one could imagine, and Celeborn sent out the scouts to look for him. It took them a good while, but they found him eventually…would you like to tell the rest, Legolas?” The little Elf shook his head, his cheeks turning a rosy shade of red. “They found him in great distress in the spring where the boys had gone swimming. They thought it would be rather funny to take his clothes and leave him.” Elrond let out a hardy laugh, as did Estel. Even Arwen was giggling. Legolas smiled, embarrassed, but finding his ill fortune rather humorous as well. He wasn’t one to hold a grudge, and he had played many similar tricks before on other boys. 

“Whatever did they do? Surely they didn’t take him back in that state!” Elrond asked, still chuckling lightly.

“Haldir returned without his shirt and Orophin without his cloak which they used to cover the rest of the poor thing.” He looked to his son, who was laughing as well at this point. Elves were not ones to hold grudges towards each other. Their lives were so very long, meaningless mishaps and silly pranks and things were hardly remembered and seldom affected the rest of their lives. Wood Elves, especially, were quick to forgive each other. They found joy in making jokes, and everyone must be on the losing end every now and then, even the Prince.

“Legolas are you finished?” Estel asked after a few moments. Legolas nodded, pushing away his empty dish. 

“Could I come?” Arwen piped, though she didn’t know where they were going, her eyes threatening to become tearful if they said no. Estel looked to Legolas.

“Yes you can come.” The little Elf said with a smile. Arwen allowed a grin to cross her pale face as she left her seat at the table.

“Legolas,” Thranduil called. He turned his head to look at his father.

“Yes, Adar?”

“Promise me you will not leave the valley. Goblins have been known to lurk out beyond the rim.”

“Yes, Adar, I promise.” Thranduil smiled.

“Do not leave Arwen behind!” Elrond added, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep up with Estel and Legolas, for she was quite a few years younger than Legolas, and the Elf equivalent to probably four or five years in a Man’s eyes. Elrond didn’t exactly trust the little boy. He was adventurous and brave, but could become lost in his adventures and forget his responsibilities, however small they were. Legolas, though appearing similar in age, was far older than Estel. Elrond placed his trust in him, for he was more attentive and mature than the rambunctious little boy.

“We won’t leave her behind. Come, Arwen.” Legolas smiled, taking the little girl’s hand. “We’ll be home before midday, Adar!” he called as they left, running down the garden path at Estel’s heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor little Arwen. Estel doesn't like spending much time with her. Not yet, anyway ; )
> 
> Thanks for reading : ) The next chapter will be up tomorrow! Comment? I love comments!


	3. Trouble in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estel, Arwen, and Legolas run into a bit of trouble while talking with the trees after breakfast.

“Legolas where are we going?” Arwen asked quietly as she followed the boys out of the palace and down the garden path, bounding over little brooks and waterfalls, wading through the flowers. She desperately wanted to stop and smell the lilies, but Estel would not slow. Adventure was waiting, and he would not be late.

“We’re going into the forest to play. I told Estel I’d show him how to listen to the trees.” He explained.

“Estel could we go slower?” the little girl asked, becoming tired. They hadn’t run every far, but she was so very young and small, her legs were growing weak and wobbly. Estel slowed to a walk with a sigh, a bit exasperated. He knew if Arwen hadn’t come, they would have been able to run forever. Elves have great stamina, he knew, but Arwen was still very little and had not spent as much time in the forest as Legolas. He was swift and light on his feet, as all Elves are, but more so from growing up in the tangles of Mirkwood.

“Arwen you should go back with Adar.” Estel said, not trying to be nasty, but trying to get rid of her.

“It’s alright, Arwen. You can stay if you’d like.” Legolas said with a smile. “Hold these.” He said, handing her his quiver and bow from his back and letting her climb aboard. The little girl smiled, and they continued their trek over the river and into the green wood surrounding the valley. 

The young Elf felt immediately at home under the trees. The leafy canopy put him at lease, and the tunnel of branches that formed around the road felt like a loving cocoon. He smiled looking around, hardly noticing when Estel stopped. Legolas came to a halt behind him, and looked at the young boy, waiting for what he would say. Estel was most certainly in charge of things. He was a leader, and it was clear to tell.

“Legolas put down Arwen and lets go listen to the trees!” he said with a smile. The little girl slipped from Legolas’ back and smiled as well, following the boys as they forged a new trail into the woods. Legolas walked slowly and silently, looking around and listening to the sounds of the forest around him. He felt at home, at ease. Estel walked far quicker and loudly, though he was trying to be quiet. He scared birds from the bushes and low trees, and sent brown rabbits running from their hiding places in last year’s fallen leaves. Legolas smiled, holding back a laugh as he watched Estel tiptoe awkwardly, his knees bent in an effort to break the momentum in his falling feet. He held his arms up at his sides like a young bird trying to fly.

“Estel, you look like a duck.” Legolas said, chuckling lightly. “Walk normally. You’ll be noisy either way!” Arwen laughed. Estel always carried himself confidently around her, and was always telling her what to do. She found great joy in watching him goof, for she was usually the one making a clumsy mistake. The little boy’s cheeks flushed pink, and he trotted up ahead, looking up at the trees casually, trying to shrug off the duck comment.

Legolas followed for a while, but soon decided he’d rather climb trees and broke off from the path Estel had been following. He jumped and grabbed a low branch, lifted himself up, then continued climbing until he found a wide branch to sit on, his back against the trunk, his long, lithe legs hanging to either side of the limb.

“Could I come up too?” Arwen asked. Legolas reached his skinny arm down to her and helped her up. Estel scurried up shortly after, having little trouble. He was quite good at climbing trees, and grinned at his comeback. He certainly didn’t look like a duck while climbing the tree!

“Legolas how do you know if the tree is—” Legolas held his hand up to the boy, motioning for him to be quiet. He looked out over the forest, crouched down on the limb, keeping himself steady with his hand on the trunk.

“Estel what’s—” Arwen began, but was cut off.

“hush!” Legolas demanded, climbing higher in the tree and motioning for them to do the same. Realizing his urgency, the others followed immediately, Estel passing Legolas in his fright, until all of the children were well out of sight from the ground. It was then that the young Elf had a horrifying thought. Arwen had placed his bow and quiver on the ground under the tree, but the heavy footsteps coming towards them were evident, now, even to Estel, who did not have the keen eyes and ears of the Elves.

“Sorry!” Arwen mouthed silently to Legolas, who was seated on a branch just above her. He gave her a meek smile, acknowledging her apology. It wasn’t her fault. He had asked her to hold them for him. The footsteps were terribly close, now, and noisy, not the footsteps of an Elf or a Man. Estel looked down at Legolas with sheer terror in his deep blue eyes. Legolas kept his eyes trained ahead, waiting for the owner of the footsteps to come into view below the tree. He prayed they wouldn’t see his bow and arrows. He would be distraught if anything were to happen to them. He took them everywhere. They were like his friends.

Heavy breathing soon accompanied the large, lumbering footsteps. The sound wasn’t breathing so much as it was snorting with a wet and slobbery sort of quality, as all troll breathing was. It was then that Legolas realized where they were. They had left Rivendell, accidentally, of course, when they left the road and gone into the woods. There were no guards in the open forest, for the magic of the city would keep any ill will away, but that did not mean that the troll approaching would not clobber the children before they could run back to safety. Arwen began to cry.

The horrid, stinking creature passed under the children without noticing them, but was still a threat, for it stopped just 100 yards away from their tree and sat down, then began eating something it yanked out of the sack it wore on its back, what creature it had been none of them could guess. Estel looked down from his perch at Legolas, worry obvious in his face.

“What do we do now?” he asked in a whisper hardly loud enough to hear. Arwen continued to cry, feeling it was her fault, and was bound to be heard if she sniffled or sobbed any more. They could not move without making a sound. Estel was not Elfkind, and his footsteps were hopelessly noisy. Legolas was helpless without his bow and arrows. It seemed as though they would be stuck there for some time.

Legolas sat in thought for a moment as Estel and little Arwen watched him, both of them scared, waiting for the young Elf to come up with a plan to save them all. Though Estel had been the leader of their little party, it was becoming evident that Legolas was the brains behind the operation. Estel hadn’t had the experiences of Legolas, and didn’t know what to do. The little boy felt helpless. He hadn’t even seen a troll before, and certainly didn’t know how to handle one. Estel wondered why the other boy was not so frightened. He peered over his shoulder to be sure that the troll was occupied before he spoke.

“Legolas, aren’t you scared?” he whispered, hoping he would say yes. Estel felt quite inferior to Legolas in some aspects, and though Legolas didn’t mean it at all, Estel couldn’t help but be a bit jealous of the young elf.

“The shades of Men hold no terror for Elves.” He replied quietly with a smile. It would not be the last time Estel heard him say those words.

Shortly after, the Elf looked up, a bright idea evident in his eyes.

“What are we to do?” Estel asked.

“You are to do nothing. Just stay here until I tell you. You as well, Arwen. Stay put. I will tell you when you may follow me. Do not make a sound.” He instructed. Before Estel or Arwen could protest or question, Legolas leapt from his branch and landed silently on the ground in a crouch, picking up his bow, and notching an arrow. He then shot the beast, hitting it directly in the back of the head, killing it instantly. All of this happened in hardly a second.

“You may come down now.” Legolas smiled, hanging his bow on his back, where it belonged. Estel helped Arwen out of the tree, both of them in awe.

“Have you done that before?” the boy asked as they headed back towards Rivendell, keeping to the safety of the road. Estel’s jealousy had been forgotten for the moment. He was just happy to be out of that tree and out of harm’s way.

“No.” Legolas answered truthfully, his long, skinny legs carrying him soundlessly through the underbrush. 

“Will it chase us back home?” Arwen asked. She was far too little to understand what it meant to die.

“No. He will stay away. He’s frightened of Legolas.” Estel explained to her. “You’ve never ever shot anything like that before?” he asked again. Legolas shook his head.

“No. I have never shot anything living before. Only targets and trees and things…” He seemed unfazed by the events that had just unfolded. He appeared neither happy nor sad and not frightened or proud. He was a perfect demonstration of the telltale Wood Elf aloofness. 

“Aren’t you pleased, then? You’ve saved us!” Estel applauded his friend. Legolas only shrugged.

“I suppose so.” He said with a smile. He was terribly modest, as his father had taught him to be. Since he was a prince, many of the young Elves in Mirkwood looked up to him. Thranduil had instilled in Legolas contentedness and poise in everything he did. He never bragged, and never allowed himself to feel prideful of trivial things. Thranduil wanted all of his subjects to respect Legolas, even if he was only a child in an Elf’s eyes.

When the trio returned to Rivendell, Thranduil was the first to meet them. He was terribly nervous when it came to his child, and always wanted to make sure he was well. He hugged Legolas when they returned.

“How was your adventure?” he asked with a smile.

“Legolas shot a troll!” Arwen piped excitedly. Estel and Legolas both glared. That was not to be spoken of.

“What? Legolas,” Thranduil began, frightened. “Did you really?” He nodded.

“Sorry, Adar, but we couldn’t get home—we left the valley by mistake climbing trees, and—” Thranduil placed his finger to his son’s lips, quieting him.

“Hush. You’ve saved your friends. I do not think that is cause for anger. But let’s not tell Elrond. It’ll be our secret.” He said with a grin. “I do not think he would be pleased to hear that his little daughter was put in danger.”

“Arwen was very brave.” Estel said smiling.

“She was very brave!” Legolas added, holding her hand.

“I think you’ve all proven your bravery, and I think a treat is in order.” Thranduil added with a mysterious smile.

“What is it?” Estel asked, excited.

“Well you’re just going to have to wait and see!”


	4. The Celebration

The children paraded down the hallway following Thranduil as he glided silently through the palace. Estel found the Elf mesmerizing, with his long, white-blonde hair and his water-like robes that fluttered behind him as he walked soundlessly. The little boy had noticed the silent footsteps of the Elves. He had lived with them for most of his life; but there was something different about Legolas and Thranduil. They didn’t walk, they glided. Their heads remained ever so level when they walked, no matter what the terrain, and they almost seemed to do nothing wrong, which frustrated Estel, who always seemed to find trouble. 

“Thranduil what are we going to get? Is it a gift?” Estel piped, bouncing at he walked just behind Legolas.

“Hm…I think you may just have to wait and see.” Thranduil answered him with a smirk.

“Is it something to eat? Like a treat?” he asked.

“No it isn’t anything to eat.” Thranduil said with a sort of mischievous smile. Arwen grinned in anticipation. Legolas just continued walking quietly beside his father. Thranduil took his son’s thin white hand into his own. Legolas was like a smaller version of Thranduil, with the same white blonde hair and light complexion. They walked in a similar fashion, their faces were near identical. It was strange how alike they were.

“Adar must we leave Rivendell to have our surprise?” he asked quietly, his voice bird-like and light. Everything about him was light and fair.

“No. But I do think you’ll have to wait here while I retrieve your surprise.” The Elf answered his son, releasing his hand and leaving the children on the gazebo on top of the hill, overlooking the gardens. Thranduil glided back into the main palace, his pace quickening, his silver robes rippling behind him like a sea in the air. Legolas sat on the railing of the gazebo.

“I bet it’s something odd.” Legolas said. “Adar always gives strange little things…”

“We’ve just gotten a new horse in the stables…perhaps it’s something to do with that.” Estel guessed.

“I hope it’s a sweet.” Arwen piped, jumping in an attempt to sit with the boys on the railing. Estel picked her up and helped her sit.

“I don’t think so, Arwen. Adar would have said so.” Legolas cooed, his eyes wondering, watching the sparrows play in the thicket. 

Thranduil returned just moments later, followed by Elrond. They walked into the gazebo, and Legolas slid down from the railing. It was not proper for a prince to sit in such a manner. 

“Where is our gift?” Estel asked, not thinking of his manners. Elrond gave him a deadly sort of look, and the boy became quiet. 

“Well here is your gift!” Thranduil said with a smile, holding his hand out to Elrond. “Isn’t Lord Elrond a beautiful present?!” he joked. Legolas smiled and hugged Elrond.

“Yes, Adar! Uncle Elrond is a wonderful gift!” All of them began to laugh. Even little Arwen giggled.

“As much as I wish I were, I am not your gift.” Elrond admitted. “But I am going to help in giving your gifts.” He said with a smile. “Do any of you know what tonight is?” he asked, looking to all of the children, holding his gaze on Legolas, knowing he would be the only one able to answer. The young Elf though for a moment, then smiled.

“The Hundredth-Summer Celebration.” He said with a grin. Estel looked to Legolas then to Elrond for an explanation. He hadn’t heard of such a thing before.

“You are most correct, little princeling.” Elrond said, sitting down on one of the benches that surrounded the gazebo. 

“Adar what is that?” Estel asked quietly and politely, doing his best with his manners after getting reprimanded. 

“Every 100 years, the stars align in such a way that the night becomes as bright as a silver day. Eärendil aligns with Menelvagor and Carnil, as well as the Helluin formation. Those stars in alignment, as well as the light from Ithil, that’s the Moon, in the tongue of Man, Estel, create the most magnificent glow. It is truly a beautiful thing.” Thranduil explained. “Legolas, you were only a very little Elf the last time you took part in a Hundredth-Summer.”

“Only…hm…” he thought for a moment, counting on his fingers. “Only fifty seven, I think.” Estel looked at him and raised his eyebrows. That meant his playmate was one hundred and fifty seven years old. He was only ten. Thranduil laughed at Estel’s reaction. 

“You are a funny little thing, Estel. I suppose be you wouldn’t believe it if I told you that I am nearing seven thousand one hundred and fiftieth year.”

“I’m nearing my eight thousandth year.” Elrond admitted, making a sort of jokingly disgusted face at Thranduil, who chuckled. Estel looked from one Elf to another, in shock. He would have guessed Elrond’s age at somewhere around fourty years, and Thranduil around thirty five.

“Anyhow!” Thranduil began again, retrieving three small wooden boxes from his pocket, each of them intricately carved with patterns of leaves and birds. Arwen’s blossomed with pink enamel flowers. Legolas’ box was alive with green leaves, his namesake, as well as birds of bright blue. Estel’s palm-sized gift was decorated with golden foliage and trees with inlayed branches of a very dark wood. All of them were beautiful, all of them a work of art.

“Adar this is very much like my other box from my first Hundredth-Summer! Does this one have a l—” Thranduil slapped his willowy hand over his son’s mouth.

“Hush! Don’t spoil the surprise for the others.” He smiled. Legolas nodded and Thranduil released his face.

“Estel open it!” Legolas piped, peeking inside of his own to confirm his suspicion of its contents. Estel grinned and carefully opened the lid, revealing what appeared to be a small folded paper flower. Arwen’s box contained the same, as did Legolas’.

“What do I do with this?” Estel asked, curious. I couldn’t imagine what a little paper flower could have to do with such an incredible celebration like the one Thranduil had described.

“This is a very special little flower.” Thranduil explained, crouching down to Estel and Arwen’s height. Legolas smiled up at Elrond, feeling very pleased with himself for possessing knowledge that none of the others had. “The Hundredth-Summer celebration is a bit different in the Woodland Realm. Here, lights are hung from the trees for the celebration, but in Mirkwood, we do something else in addition to the hanging lanterns.” He looked to Legolas, giving the little Elf permission to reveal the secret in the little folded flowers. He inhaled deeply, then blew a gentle breath over the flower, making it expand into a great, round lantern. 

“Wow do we get one too?!” Arwen asked with a hop. 

“Well yes of course! Here, I’ll help you.” Thranduil said, taking her flower and placing it in his palm. “Now give it a blow, like putting out a candle.” She did so, and with a little help from Thranduil’s own breath, her lantern opened into a beautiful pink orb, decorated with silver flowers. Estel opened his as well. His was a pale green with an intricate vine crawling all the way around, birds and berries nestling in the boughs. Legolas’ lantern was blue with stars. His had a fringe at the bottom because he was royalty in the Woodland Realm where the lantern tradition began.

“During the celebration, you put a candle inside and the lantern will fly!” Legolas explained. “Then when the candle goes out, it will fall back down to you and become a flower again.” 

“Adar do I get a candle in mine?” Arwen asked, tugging at Elrond’s cloak.

“Yes of course my dear.”

“I can’t wait to see how high it flies!” Estel said, admiring his lantern.

The sun set late that evening, as it always did during the summer, and it was nearly nine in the evening by the clocks of Men when Thranduil lead the children out into the middle of a field just outside the palace. All of the Elves in Rivendell were celebrating on all of the verandas and gazebos. Music was playing, wine was being drained from silver and crystal goblets, and there was much dancing and merriment in the grand hall.

Thranduil carefully lit the candles inside the children’s lanterns, then stood back, watching them rise into the air.

“They’re beautiful!” Estel mused, watching the lanterns rise. Thranduil then lit his own and released it. Though he was away from home, he had promised his people he wound release his royal light for good luck, as was the lore. His lantern was twice the size of the others, and white. It was decorated with silver trees and the winding, leafy emblem of the Royal Family of Mirkwood. Like Legolas’, his lantern was fringed around the bottom, and when he released it into the air, flecks of sparkling, glittery dust followed behind.

The quartet stood for quite a while, watching their lanterns fly. Arwen grew drowsy and sat down in the grass. 

“Are you sleepy, Arwen?” Thranduil said, lifting the little girl into his arms, letting her fall asleep with head rested on his shoulder. He rocked gently from side to side, her dark hair waving, contrasting with Thranduil’s silver robes and blonde hair that glowed white in the strong moonlight of the Hundredth Summer Celebration.

Legolas was half asleep himself when he felt his lantern land in his hands. Elven Magic caused the lantern to return to its owners’ hands and fold back into a flower until the next time it was taken out for a Hundredth Summer Celebration. Estel caught his lantern as well, and Thranduil retrieved Arwen’s little lantern and his own, far larger one, which folded into an intricate rose in his hand. 

They then paraded back into the palace, quietly listening to the music from the great hall. They felt no need to speak, for the children were both admiring their folded lanterns, and Arwen was asleep in Thranduil’s arms.

Estel followed Legolas into his bed chamber to retrieve Beorn and his sleeping things from their sleepover, and Legolas readied himself for bed.

He was very pleased he didn’t have to sleep on the floor again tonight, for his lower back was still a bit achy from the night before. He climbed into bed and under the cotton comforter, looking up at the canopy of branches supporting the sheer curtain that could be closed around the bed. He sighed before closing his eyes. And to think he didn’t want to come to Rivendell not two days before!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this chapter!


	5. Legolas' punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas gets in a bit of trouble, but Thranduil knows how to fix a misbehaving elfling.

Legolas was not tired in the least. He had been in bed for at least an hour, but he simply could not fall asleep. He was in his night things, but the garments he slept in were more than presentable.

He had brought two sets of pajamas: one, the ones he had worn the night before, were all of white linen, edged in silk and stitched with leaves and flowers around the hems. The pants were long and loose, but were held out of the way by a drawstring tied in a bow around his ankles.

Tonight he was wearing his second pair, though, which was a light mossy green. The sleeves were wide and passed his fingertips, but were hemmed in a darker green. Then entire ensemble was of a raw silk that was smooth against his fair skin. The bottoms were long, but not as loose as the white ones, and hung just at his ankles, out of the way.

He paced the room once, looking at himself in the mirror, smoothing down his silky brown hair and re-braiding the hair off to the sides, tying them off in the back. The sounds of the festivities were still audible from Legolas' bedroom far away from the dining hall and gazebos and terraces where the celebrations were taking place.

The little elf made a mischievous face at himself in the looking glass before tiptoeing to the foot of his bed where he kept his green silk slippers. He put them on silently, then crept out of his room, starting down the hallway, keeping close to the walls should someone walk by, but Legolas wasn't worried. He was quiet even among Elves and was expected to grow into a formidable enemy with his stealth.

He walked quietly, following the cheerful music and singing until he reached the doors of the great hall. He smiled, opening the great wooden doors just a crack and peeking inside.

His large blue eyes widened at the sight of so many people making merry together. The long table in the middle of the room was set with the finest silver. The centerpiece was a pile of flowers and branches in bloom, complete with the most beautiful fluttering butterflies. The chandelier hanging just above the display was strung with silver streamers that ran all the way from the candles to the walls. The rest of the room was strung with paper lanterns, customary of the Hundredth Summer, but these were not the usual lanterns of Rivendell. These lanterns had been brought from the Woodland Realm, for they were far more intricate and detailed than Rivendell was capable of. They were all strung with tassels and adorned with beads and jewels of every shape and color. Candles glowed from within every one. Along with the light of the many chandeliers, the night was expelled from the room. Even the far wall, which was open to the air, was lit as brightly as day.

Legolas smiled, waiting for an appropriate time to enter. It soon came when the sentry standing next to the door left his post to get himself a silver goblet of wine. The young Elf slipped soundlessly into the grand hall, smiling wildly. Estel's mischievousness appeared to be rubbing off on him. Legolas did like to have fun, and would have thought of joining the party even if he hadn't met Estel, but he never would have left his bed. He was becoming more daring.

For a few moments he simply looked around, taking in all of the decorations and the lights and the smells and the sounds. The stars seemed to have settled into the eves of the hall, glistening in the only shadowy space in the room, just up near the pinnacle of the ceiling. He found himself wandering around the crowded room, but soon was taken out of his awe inspired trance when he ran into a tall Elf's legs and realized he had strayed onto the dancing ring in the center of the room.

"Forgive me, your highness!" the man said, steading Legolas by placing a gentle hand on his back.

"The fault is mine." Legolas answered shyly. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. He knew he would be punished if Uncle Elrond caught him, or worse. Thranduil probably wouldn't punish him directly, but would somehow teach him a lesson through a 'learning experience', which would probably involve Legolas singing alone in front of everyone or making a toast or something of that sort. Though he was very brave and formidable for such a young Elf, Legolas was still very shy and did not like public attention, which was a problem. Being the Prince of the Woodland Realm, he was often the center of everybody's attention, which put an incredible amount of stress on the little boy, and his father knew it. Thranduil did not believe in shouting and spanking and going to one's room. He believed that a child should learn their lesson through experience and a sort of indirect torture that would not appear as punishment to anyone but Legolas. That was his genius as a parent. That was what he lived for: finding new and embarrassing ways to 'teach' Legolas. At least that's what it seemed like to the little Elf.

The tall man bowed his head, his long blond hair falling around his face, nearly to his waist. Legolas smiled. He had successfully conducted a conversation with an adult without blushing or shuddering and without any help from his father.

The little Elf proceeded across the room, paying more attention to his surroundings, until he reached the long table out on the pavilion. Most adult Elves were rather tall. Legolas was not short, but even so, the table still reached his chest and he found it odd having to stand on his tiptoes to see over the high table, which was covered in all sorts of wonderful foods and drinks. Colorful fruits were stacked high in crystal bowls and on silver platters, and wines in a range of color glistened in bottles and tumblers and goblets. It truly was a rich feast, and the little boy couldn't resist reaching his slender hand up and snatching a glittery sugared strawberry out of a small glass bowl. He ate it slowly and happily with his hand under his chin so he didn't drip on his night shirt and continued wondering around the room, keeping a sharp eye out for his father or Elrond.

His wanderings brought him over to the far Eastern wall of the hall, to where a collection of Elves were singing and playing instruments. Elves quite liked their strings, and many played lutes and harps, but a few were talented with small silver flutes and panpipes. The favored instrument of the Elves, however, was the voice, and most of the musicians were singing.

Legolas smiled, realizing that he recognized the song. It was a travelers' tune that was often sung by the archers of Mirkwood while they were walking out to their posts in the morning or coming back at the end of their watch. It was a slow, almost mournful song, as many of the songs of the Elves are, and Legolas often hummed it to himself when he found himself with nothing better to do.

A Olórin i yáressë

Mentaner i Númeherui

Tírien i Rómenóri,

Maiaron i oiosaila

Manan elyë etevannë

Nórië i malanelyë?

It went on subtly and flowed like a river, growing louder and softer in swells, each singer carrying a different note that reverberated into a single sound, like one singer alone. It wasn't long before Legolas decided to stand beside them and begin to sing himself.

He had joined the song late in the verses, and it was soon over, but when the tune finished, he realized that a crowd had been drawn. Legolas was not extraordinary in the area of singing, but everyone seemed interested in what he was doing, no matter what it was, and everyone wanted to see the Prince of the Woodland Realm singing, surprised he would settle for singing with such commoners, many of which had consumed a bit too much wine, for it was possible for Elves to get drunk, though it took a rather long time.

Applause rang out, and Legolas rushed away, slipping through the crowd and back to the dancing ring where a traditional Elfish dance had started. The chorus and instrumentalists' tune fell in threes, and Legolas kept time with the rest of the dancers, spinning and clapping along with the crowd, grabbing hands and stamping feet. He was still a little boy and was much shorter than most of the others in the crowd, so everyone else had to bend over or bend their legs when dancing. A particularly inebriated Elf even lifted him up and spun him around, then promptly knelt down and apologized.

Legolas continued dancing and celebrating with the rest, quite enjoying himself. He had never been allowed to join in the party before, for his father said it was no place for a little boy, even if he was royalty.

He continued making merry with the adults, all of them smiling and happy to see him. He was happy and quite enjoying himself when he backed up and ran directly into someone else in the dancing ring, and he stopped abruptly, whipping his head around to apologize.

"Forgive me, sir, I didn't—" he stopped speaking when he saw his father's face above him. Thranduil had a quizzical sort of look about him, one eyebrow raised.

"Legolas? What are you doing here? I thought you went to bed." He said, nearly shouting over the commotion.

"I-I-I wanted to see…"he stammered, blinking his big pale eyes, his cheeks turning a rosy shade of red. Thranduil lead him off of the dancing floor by the hand.

"Are the other children with you?" he asked. Legolas shook his head.

"No, Adar…"

"And in your night things!"

"I'm sorry, Adar! Imnë avatyar. Please forgive me, I should not have left my room."

"Ah well." Thranduil said with a smile. "I suppose since you've been having such a time without any recognition, I suppose we should let everyone know that the young Prince is here! I'm sure they'd be happy to know that such a member of the royal family is among them!"

"No Adar please!" he pleaded.

"But it will be a good public speaking experience." He said, taking Legolas' hand and taking him up to the top of the stairs that curved up around the very door Legolas had entered the room through. Where the two curved staircases met was a landing where one could be seen from the entire room. Thranduil dragged Legolas up the stairs by the hand, the little elf, horrified, followed. All Thranduil had to do was stand at the banister to quiet the room.

"I am happy to announce that Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, has something to share with all of you." The entire crowd began to applaud, except for Lord Elrond, who stood in the back of the room laughing, knowing exactly what was going on.

"No I don't!" Legolas squeaked, unheard by everyone save himself. His face was red as a beet, and his fingers had gone numb.

"Legolas sing us a song from the Woodland Realm!" Elrond called from the back of the room. Legolas grabbed the rail and hid his face behind it until Thranduil hauled him back up by the back of his nightshirt. He felt terribly silly standing in front of everybody in his night things, and even more embarrassed about singing. He was not talented in the area of song, and found it extremely difficult to carry a tune all alone. He quite enjoyed singing in a group or a choir, but singing alone was more horrifying than the troll in the woods he had seen that morning.

"Um…" Legolas looked up to his father for guidance. Thranduil only shrugged and gave him a smirk.

"You know many songs, Legolas." He said. "Sing them one. I'm sure most of them haven't heard any of our songs."

"A—A… A Bereth thar Ennui…Aeair.

Calad ammen i reniar

Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel

I chin a thûl lín míriel...

A—Ah Bare-ehth …thar ehn-noo-ee eye-are

Kahl-ahd ahm-men ee rehn-ee-are

Mee ahl-ahth-rehm-meen ehn-nore-ahth

Ah Ell-bare-ehth geel-tho-nee-el

ee heen ah thool leen mere-ee-ell…."

He sang, slowly and cautiously at the beginning, but becoming more regular and melodic towards the end. Everyone applauded wildly, holding up goblets and throwing their arms in the air. Legolas had never seen a group of Elves so intoxicated before. It was extremely difficult to get an Elf drunk, but it did happen, especially when real Elfish wine was involved. They had a traditional way of aging wine that made it extremely strong; strong enough to even make an Elf a bit tipsy.

Legolas smiled, as did Thranduil.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it, Tithin Orn?" Legolas shrugged. He became embarrassed when his father called him that in public, though many people in the Woodland Realm referred to him as such when speaking about him. It was a Sindarin phrase that translated to 'Little Tree' in the common speech, for Sindarin was the language of Mirkwood, though Legolas knew both Sindarin and Quenya well. It was a fitting name for him, but it still made him red in the cheeks.

"Another, Little Prince!" someone shouted from the audience. Legolas looked to his father again, but Thranduil had started back down the stairs and only glanced back to offer him a smile.

"…no," Legolas said, much to the dismay of the audience "Forgive me, but…I think I'm going to sleep now." He said. The crowd gave a little chuckle. It was easy for them to forget that Legolas was only a little thing. His mother and father had taught him maturity, poise, and grace, and many people, Elves or no, thought he was a very promising young Elf with the qualities of a leader, but it was nearly midnight, and Legolas could have fallen asleep standing up.

The Little Elf started down the stairs where his father was waiting about halfway down. Thranduil too his son in his arms and carried him the rest of the way. Legolas was asleep on his father's shoulder before they reached the bottom of the staircase. Thranduil held his finger to his mouth for silence, and the crowd chuckled and murmured as he carried his son to bed.

"I'm sorry, Adar…" the little Elf said as his father placed him down in his bed and covered him. Thranduil smiled.

"You've been punished enough." He said with a wink. Legolas grinned as his father glided out of the room, the music from the celebration still audible behind the closed doors.

 

Imnë avatyar: I'm sorry (Quenya)

Adar: Father (Quenya)

Tithin Orn: Little Tree (Sindarin)

The rest are various songs and poems from Tolkien's works as well as the soundtracks to the films. They're too long to translate because I'm being lazy hahaha!


	6. Bunnies in the Garden

Estel woke early the next morning; early enough to see the sun rise. He sat up in his bed, looking out the window, and smiled, enjoying the dewy breeze that drifted though the window. The sheer drapes that fell from the top of the window billowed quietly.

Though Estel lived in Rivendell, he was clearly not elf-kind. Even without seeing him, it was clear simply by looking around his bedroom. The High Elves were notorious for their sparse decoration. Clean, polished floors, marble columns, smooth, white woods, and only white, sheer window treatments decorated their homes, and nothing but the occasional silver chandelier hung from the ceilings. The only decoration was flowers and chairs covered in richly colored cloth. Estel's room was a bit different, though.

Elrond had tried to keep it tidy and traditionally clean and sparse, but Estel felt terribly exposed and unsafe sleeping in the middle of an empty room, so as soon as he could, he found help and moved his bed into the corner, away from the windows and the doors. He had shelves built and kept all sorts of things on them; sparkly stones, arrowheads from practicing archers of old, pottery shards he had found in the forest, deer teeth, and even an antler. He had many lanterns hanging from the ceiling like a colorful cloud. In the corner of his room he had a branch with many twigs spreading out from it, on which he hung his collections. The hunters and guards occasionally shot deer or rabbits or other animals for pelts or food, but the tails were more or less useless, so they cleaned them and gave them to Estel to hang on his branches. The limb was also aglow with old beads and broken shards of colorful glass that created a flurry of colors on the floor.

With all of his lovely things in his room, he felt much safer and happier. He quite liked his bedroom and was happy that Elrond didn't make him 'clean it up'.

He looked out the window and to the gardens behind the house, and was surprised when he saw Thranduil walking quietly through the flowers and trees. Estel watched him walking, wondering how someone could step so quietly, even if they were an Elf. Somehow, Thranduil and his son seemed more ghostly than any of the elves at Rivendell. Estel had seen other Wood Elves and Grey Elves, and they all seemed to have a spooky sort of aura about them. Even so, Thranduil and Legolas seemed somehow less 'bound up' than Elrond and the other Elves at Rivendell. They were closer to nature, closer to the flow of the world. They understood how to speak to the trees and the flowers and the earth itself. They also knew how to have fun.

Estel recalled a story Elrond had told him about a group of dwarves that ventured into Mirkwood on a journey to regain the Lonely Mountain. They were tired and horribly hungry, and saw the lights of a party in the forest: the Wood Elves: Legolas' kin. They danced and sang and had an entire feast in the forest, celebrating simply because they could. Estel wished that the Elves of Rivendell were more frivolous. He believed that everyone needed a bit of fun, especially himself. Thranduil seemed like a much more lenient father than Elrond, and Estel thought of how his life would be different if he had been sent to live with Thranduil in the Woodland Realm instead of with Elrond. Thranduil seemed like a kind soul to Estel, very soft and happy, like a birdsong. He seemed slightly disconnected, as if a part of him was off somewhere else, left behind in the Valar where his people came from many ages ago. That was what was so appealing about him to Estel. Elrond seemed to be all business. He rarely made jokes or took part in silliness, but Thranduil seemed almost like a child himself, when he so chose to be. Even as Estel watched him he seemed like a child, stopping every so often to watch a butterfly flutter past or feel the wind in his long, light hair.

Estel smiled and slipped out of bed, then down the hall in his bare feet, out into the garden. He kept his distance from Thranduil, but followed him a ways, keeping to the bushes and flowers to stay hidden. He didn't know it, but Thranduil was well aware of his presence. Estel's footsteps were horribly noisy, even when he thought he was being quiet.

He watched Thranduil, enthralled by his mannerisms. He walked in such a way that his cloak billowed like water, his eyes flashed like silver in the sun. Estel had been watching so carefully that he became completely oblivious to the bush in front of him, and he ran directly into it, causing quite a rustle of leaves. Thranduil whipped around, his hair spinning like a lady's skirt.

"Are you alright, Estel?" he asked, though the boy was not in sight. He stood up and out of the bush.

"Yes Sir…" he said tentatively, looking down, sorry for snooping. Thranduil smiled.

"Might I ask what you were doing? You've been following me for some time." He began to walk again, and Estel followed.

"I saw you from my bedroom window and I…I was curious I suppose." He answered honestly, playing with the hem of his plain white nightshirt. Thranduil was in his night things as well, though his were much more elegant than Estel's. They were of a soft silver material and were in the much same fashion as Legolas': a tunic and a pair of loose bottoms. His feet were bare.

"I quite like wandering the gardens in the morning. Back home it's a bit too shady for wildflowers." He explained. Estel nodded. "Have you ever been into Mirkwood, Estel?"

"No." he answered simply. "Since you and Legolas have been here, though, I wonder what would have happened if I had been sent to live with you instead of my Adar." Though Elrond was not Estel's father, and Estel knew that, he still referred to him as Adar, as an Elfish child would call their father.

"Lord Elrond enjoys having you here." Thranduil answered.

"Yes, but…I think you're a bit more…fun." He said with a giggle. Thranduil laughed.

"I'm not sure that's true, Estel." He said with a grin. "Elrond and I are simply very different."

"But you're much happier than he is. Elrond is always doing something boring." Thranduil smiled again.

"Nooo! Elrond does many fun things."

"No he doesn't. He never throws parties in the forest or climbs trees or walks barefoot."

"But he does have constant feasts." Thranduil said, making a sort of face and placing his hand over his middle, as if he had a stomachache. He then grinned at Estel. "We like to dance and sing, but we are not so intent on feasting." He explained. Estel looked down at himself, at his own middle. He wasn't heavy by any means, but he was not as trim as Legolas. Estel was more muscular and built, as most Men are compared to Elves. Legolas and Thranduil were both tall and wispy, like tendrils of smoke rising from a fire on a clear, still night. Estel smiled.

"Adar likes giving feasts. He says it's entertaining and good for the soul." He recited. Thranduil laughed.

"You are a funny little thing, Estel." He said with a smile. He stopped in the path and put a hand on the little boy's shoulder. He then gazed out into one of the nearby patches of flowers.

"Thranduil wha—" the man hushed the little boy, placing a careful finger to his lips and pointing out into the daffodils.

"Just look." He said. Estel looked as hard as he could, but saw nothing until the little creature moved, making itself obvious as it sat in the flowers. A small brown rabbit with ears that stood high in the air. The man took Estel's hand in his own and guided it down to the ground, then reached into a small leather bag he had been carrying. He placed the contents in the little boy's hand; a pile of what appeared to be small slices of bright carrots. "Now just wait."

Estel sat quietly for a few moments, then looked up at Thranduil again. He was growing impatient.

"When will it come?" he asked.

"Just be still and patient, and he will come." He said with a smile, crouching down next to the boy. Thranduil actually quite pitied the little boy. He had no mother or father, and clearly felt a bit odd in the environment he had been placed in. He knew Elrond loved the little boy. He knew he wanted nothing more than for the boy to grow up strong and well, and that he loved him like a son, but even so, he could see that Estel was feeling out of place. Elrond was an old soul, and was usually very stern and quiet. Thranduil was, to put it bluntly, more fun. He enjoyed occasional silliness and thought children should not be kept within strict boundaries. Though protective, Thranduil allowed his son to explore his world. Legolas was often out in the woods overnight, experiencing the forest, and Thranduil allowed him to. (though he always had the little elf accompanied by a secret scout, but Legolas was under the impression that he was alone.) He wasn't worried that his son would become wild or impolite or tarnished in any way. Elrond held manners in high regard. Thranduil couldn't care less whether or not a child, or anyone, licked their fingers at the table or sat with their knees crossed under them. Estel seemed as if he had grown out of the box Elrond had placed him inside, and though Thranduil would only be there a fortnight, he was intent on giving Estel a peek outside of his small, safe world.

Thranduil knew why Elrond protected him so, for he was not the simple little boy he appeared to be, and should the outside world know of his existence, he would be threatened or even killed very shortly. But Thranduil felt Elrond was being a bit extreme. There was no harm in letting him jump on his bed or climb trees or forget to say thank you every now and again.

"Thranduil will he bite me?" Estel asked, pulling his hand away slightly as the rabbit approached.

"Oh no. She's quite friendly. I've been feeding her every morning. You did not think I simply carried carrots at my side, did you?" Estel laughed and placed his hand out again, watching as the rabbit approached. The Elf smiled when she finally mustered the courage to have a nibble out of the boy's hand. She had come to trust Thranduil rather quickly, as he was an Elf, more specifically a Wood Elf, and he was surprised that the rabbit ate out of the boy's hand at all.

When she emerged from the flowers, Thranduil placed his hand on the back of the rabbit's head and scratched behind her ears. The little boy smiled as he reached around and scratched the rabbit's back as well. He had never touched a live rabbit before.

There was more rustling from the flowers as three smaller bunnies emerged, nibbling at the carrots Thranduil had placed on the ground.

"Thranduil look her babies!" Estel exclaimed. He suddenly felt quite guilty for having a hare's tail hanging in his collection of pelts. Thranduil reached down and picked up one of the little rabbits in his long, slender hand. The little boy dropped the remainder of the carrots on the ground, for he could hardly contain himself. He wanted so badly to hold one of the little creatures.

"Would you like to hold one?" Thranduil asked, seeing Estel's smile. The little boy nodded.

"Could I? Please?" Thranduil smiled.

"Sit with your legs crossed. I'll put him in your lap. Be very careful. Hold up his feet." He instructed, handing the fragile little animal to the little boy. He was extremely gentle with the little bunny, and smoothed his hand over the rabbit's ears and fur. It was so unbelievably soft, it was like running his hand through warm water.

"He's so soft." He said, running his hand over his ears, flattening them against his back. "Do you do this with Legolas too?" he asked. Thranduil nodded.

"Yes Legolas and I do many things together." He said with a smile.

"Adar is always busy." He said almost sadly, looking down at the rabbit in his lap. "I know he loves me very much, but we don't have very much fun."

"Have you told him?"

"No…"

"I'd bet that if you invite him to do something you find fun, he'd be more than overjoyed to spend time with you." Estel smiled.

"Maybe we could feed the bunnies too."

"I think that'd be a very good place to start." He smiled at the little boy and stood up, beginning to walk back to the house. Estel released the baby and he hopped back to his mother and brother and sister.

"Thank you for showing me the bunnies." Estel said as they walked back inside.

"You are most welcome, Estel." He replied with a smile. It was then that a whimper echoed down the corridor. Thranduil became alert, recognizing the sob as his son's. He took off running down the hallway, Estel at his heals (or as close to his heals as he could stay) until they reached Legolas' chamber.

Thranduil ran to his side and took him in his arms, sitting on the bed.

"What is wrong, ion nin? Hush, Adar has you." He ran his hand down Legolas' light hair as the little elf buried his head in his father's shoulder. Estel climbed up onto the high bed beside Thranduil and Legolas.

"Do you have Gilthoniel?" Legolas asked Estel from where he sat in his father's lap. Estel shook his head. Legolas closed his eyes again, tears running down his perfect, porcelain cheeks. The tears of Elves, even small ones, are rare and special, and only show themselves in times of great joy or sorrow. (Unless of course you're speaking of Arwen, who wept openly quite often) Estel hadn't known Legolas very long, but he couldn't imagine him crying, yet here he was, weeping in his father's arms.

"I don't have him…Sorry." Estel admitted.

"I can't find him anywhere." Legolas sniffled.


	7. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Legolas has misplaced Gilthoniel! But with a little help from his friends, he may just find him before breakfast!

"You can't find him?" Thranduil asked, running his hand through Legolas' hair.

"No he isn't anywhere!" the little Elf mumbled into his father's front. Legolas fit quite nicely into Thranduil's lap. Then again, he was something like a miniature Thranduil. The only difference was Legolas' light brown hair. Thranduil's was nearly white it was so blonde.

"You didn't leave him in Lorien, did you?" Thranduil asked.

"No he had it at our sleepover last night. Did you look under the bed?" Estel suggested, hanging off of the mattress, looking underneath, his unruly dark hair brushing the floor.

"No he's not there. I've looked everywhere, even in my bag and in the bathroom and in the wardrobe. He isn't any place!" Legolas said, sobbing. Thranduil ran his large, thin hand up and down his son's back.

"Hush, iôn nín. We'll find him, I'm sure. Not to worry, Love." Legolas just kept his face in his father's shoulder.

"Nana would know where he was." Legolas said. Legolas' mother was always quite on top of things. She always knew where everything was and if she didn't, she promptly found it and put it where it belonged. But she had stayed home to rule in Thranduil's absence, and wasn't there to offer her motherly touch. Though Legolas was very close with his father, he was also quite attached to his mother, and missed her quite a bit.

"Yes I know. Your adar isn't particularly organized, is he?" Thranduil smiled and kissed Legolas lightly on the top of his head. Estel couldn't help but think of Elrond. Elrond had never done that with him. He had never rocked him in his lap or kissed his head. He couldn't help but be a little jealous. Legolas seemed so perfect: he was a faster runner, he was thinner, his father's life completely revolved around him, and he was a legend with a bow, even among expert elfish archers. He could draw pictures and climb trees and dance. Estel couldn't do any of that nearly as well as Legolas could. The little boy cast his hazy gray eyes down, suddenly extremely interested in the bed comforter.

Thranduil seemed to notice the little boy's dismay and gave him a wink, which made him smile a bit. Thranduil set Legolas down on the floor.

"We'll help you find him, Legolas. It'll be fun." Estel said with a smile. Legolas nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.

"You're a wonderful friend, Estel." Thranduil said, bending down and giving the little boy a hug. "But come, we'll find him." He added with a smile. Legolas nodded, still sniffling a bit.

"But where do I look?" he asked, his eyes glassy with tears.

"I'll look around inside. You and Estel check outside."

"But I didn't take him outside."

"Are you sure?" Legolas nodded. "I think it might be a good idea to check the garden anyway. I have a feeling…" Legolas rolled his eyes and giggled a little. His father was always having 'feelings' about things. Thranduil laughed at his reaction.

"Ah but Legolas, my feelings are always right." Thranduil added. Legolas smiled and nodded. "Go on and look then. I'll recruit Elrond and Arwen, and I'm sure we'll find your Gilthoniel in next to no time." Legolas smiled. He gave his father a hug before hurrying out into the garden with Estel at his heals.

Thranduil smiled as he watched them go, then glided down the hallway and tapped the doorframe to Elrond's chambers.

"Just a moment!" Elrond called from down the hall, for he had his own corridor separated from the rest of the house. The same wing hosted Arwen's room and the twins' chamber.

"It's just me." Thranduil said, entering the hallway. He knew Elrond wouldn't mind. They were quite close friends. Elrond emerged from his chamber a moment later, looking quite frazzled, his hair all a mess. Thranduil tilted his head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

"Pardon me, My King, for not being as pristine as a Wood Elf in the morning." Elrond tossed back, mock anger in his voice. Thranduil laughed. "What do you need?"

"My Legolas has lost his Gilthoniel and he needs help finding it."

"Gilthoniel? Stars? Star Kindler?" Elrond asked, misunderstanding, for Gilthoniel meant Kindler of the Stars.

"Ah it's his favorite stuffed thing; a little gray dog. He's named him Gilthoniel." Elrond nodded.

"I saw him yesterday in Legolas' room." Arwen cooed from behind her father, still in her nightgown, for it was still early: no later than 7:00 by the clocks of Men. "But I don't know where he is now."

"Perhaps you would like to help us find him, Arwen." Thranduil said, placing his large hand on her head for a moment with a smile. She nodded.

Thranduil had always wanted a smaller sibling for Legolas, but he knew it could not happen. His wife, Linwë, doted upon Legolas, but always wanted a girl. Thranduil thought a playmate might be a good idea as well, but it seemed it just wasn't in the cards. Linwë couldn't have children after Legolas was born, so it seemed Legolas would never have a little sibling. Since Linwë had always wanted a girl, she allowed Legolas to grow his hair out. Many of the other little boys had their hair cut to their shoulders to stay out of the way, but Legolas' hair was long and came halfway down his back so Linwë could braid it and play with it how a mother would with a girl. Legolas didn't mind much, for he usually kept it tied back in a ponytail or held off of his face by braids or plaits, and nobody was judgmental, for long hair was a sign of royalty among the Wood Elves. It wasn't so very bad. Legolas didn't mind, and Linwë got to dote upon a child. Everything worked out in the end.

"Adar should I get Elladan and Elrohir?" she asked quietly, tugging at Elrond's tunic.

"No, my love, leave them be. They were up far too late last night." He smiled.

"Arwen, why don't you go outside and help the boys search the garden." Thranduil suggested. Arwen looked up to Elrond, who gave her a smile and a nod, and she ran off to the garden with a smile.

"I'm quite worried, actually." Thranduil admitted when Arwen was out of sight. "Legolas is quite attached to his Gilthoniel. He'll be a mess if he's missing for good."

"He has an eternity ahead of him, Thranduil. He'll forget. But I'll bet we'll find him. I'm sure he's just been misplaced." Thranduil smiled meekly. It was such a silly, trivial thing to worry over, but Legolas was Thranduil's joy. He lived for his son, and he couldn't stand to see him upset. Legolas, though thin and willowy, was a strong little elf. He never wept, even if he was hurt. He didn't complain often and asked for very little. That's why Thranduil was so concerned when Legolas openly wept. He had only cried like that a handful of times in his entire life, and it tugged at Thranduil's heart every time he did.

"I hope so." Thranduil said.

\--o0o--

An hour passed with no luck, and Legolas was beginning to become hopeless. He had searched the entire garden with Estel and Arwen, and none of them could find Gilthoniel.

"Have any luck, Legolas?" Elrond asked, stepping out into the garden.

"No." Estel answered. Legolas wiped tears away with his sleeve. All of the children were still in their night things. Arwen was wading through the flowers, pulling up her nightgown so it didn't get damp on the dewy petals.

"I've found a frog." Arwen cooed, "But he's hopped back into the pond with the fish."

"Legolas found a pretty glass bottle someone left." Estel said, pointing over to the gazebo where Legolas had left the blue wine bottle. He found it in the garden, left over from a party long ago.

"But I haven't found Gilthoniel…" Legolas sniffled. Thranduil appeared behind Elrond within moments, a smile stretched across his face.

"Legolas, look what I've found." He said happily. Legolas looked up hopefully, guessing his father had found his stuffed thing, but it was not so. Instead, Thranduil held little Elladan in his arms. Legolas' lip trembled and he put his face in his hands.

"Leg-e-las!" Elladan called from Thranduil's arms.

"No, Elladan not right now." Legolas said, his voice muffled by his hands as he sat on the rock in the garden.

"Leg-e-las Gilthoniel!" Elladan called again. Legolas looked up. In Elladan's arms was Gilthoniel, safe and sound. Legolas ran to the little boy and smiled.

"Thank you, Elladan." He said with a smile, taking Gilthoniel and giving him a well deserved hug. "Where did you find him?"

"I made him a bow-n-arrows like yours." He said, digging around in his pocket for a moment, still in Thranduil's arms, and handed Legolas a little bow and arrows made of paper and twigs. The bow even had a piece of yarn tied across it, and the arrows were little bird feathers in a paper tube. Legolas smiled.

"Thank you, Elladan. I love it." Legolas said with a smile.

"Sorry I falled asleep when I was making it so I didn't give him back last night."

"That's okay." Legolas cooed, tying the bow to Gilthoniel with the yarn Elladan had provided. "It's perfect."

"We looked all around the garden and Elladan had him the whole time?!" Estel asked, hanging his arms down in front of himself in mock exhaustion. "Thranduil I thought you said you never had wrong 'feelings'!" Thranduil laughed.

"Even I am not perfect, Estel, though you may still believe I am if you wish." He said. Legolas smiled at his father.

"I do believe breakfast is in order." Elrond smiled as Thranduil set Elladan down. "Elladan, fetch your brother, would you?" the little elf nodded and dashed back into the house, stumbling briefly around the corner, and back to his chamber to wake Elrohir, the quieter, more subdued of the two.

"Aren't you pleased, Legolas? I told you we would find him."

"Yes I know." Legolas said, leaning against his father. Thranduil gave Legolas a hug. The little elf was still a bit on edge, though, unsure if he should be pleased with Elladan or angry. He decided it best to be pleased that Gilthoniel had been returned. He smiled at the idea of breakfast.

"Legolas go get dressed before breakfast." Thranduil instructed. Legolas nodded and started back inside.

"You as well, Estel. And you too, Arwen."

"Oh Adar do I have to?" Estel protested. "I like my night things."

"Estel, do as you're told." Elrond reprimanded gently. The boy nodded and followed Legolas. Arwen skipped behind.

"A bit of drama has been avoided." Thranduil said with a smile.

"Yes I'm quite glad. Elladan will need a talking to, though. I assume he found the thing in Legolas' room, exactly where he should not have been."

"Oh that's alright." Thranduil began, "don't punish the poor thing for trying to do something kind." Elrond laughed.

"I think you should get out of your pajamas as well, Thranduil." Elrond said with a smirk. Thranduil looked down at himself, forgetting he was not dressed.

"That may be a good idea." He said with a smile. "I shall meet you in the dining room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry this took so long to get up! I've been working on my other story. I didn't want to lose my train of thought and just continued writing that!
> 
> In most of the fan fictions I read, Thranduil is cranky and sort of mean...I never saw him like that. How could Legolas be so sweet if his father was tyrannical? I always saw Thranduil as a lovely, kind ruler and father. I think that this chapter and the previous chapter show that well. I am intent on bring up Thranduil's bad rep! Lee Pace, anyone? ; )


	8. What it Means to be a Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas discovers what it really means to be a leader

Legolas met Estel and the rest of the company in the dining room a few moments later. The little elf had experienced a bit of trouble deciding exactly what to wear, for nothing seemed fitting. All of the clothes he had brought were of rich material and color, for he was royalty, regardless of if he wanted to be or not, and royalty were not supposed to be getting dirty or having any fun when visiting with other important people.

After contemplating for a while, Legolas decided to wear his mossy green traveling leggings with one of his silken tunics so that he could run around and climb trees. Over the pale blue tunic he pulled on a vest of light leather and laced it up the front, looking himself over in the mirror. He frowned at how thin he was. Estel was far stronger than he, and was not so twiggy in appearance. Legolas’ legs were far too long for the rest of him, and his delicate features and fair skin made him look girlish. He turned away from the mirror with a sigh and tightened his bracers with his teeth, tying them rightly around his wrists, holding the loose sleeve ends out of his way. He then proceeded to brush out his long, smooth hair. He could not braid it well himself, for his hair was too long to reach properly, so he simply tied it back into a long, low ponytail with a piece of cord he found on the night table, probably Estel’s. Finally, Legolas pulled on his boots, tucking his leggings inside so the bottoms wouldn’t get muddy, and proceeded out of his bedroom and into the dining room.

When Thranduil saw his son’s attire, he raised one of his strong eyebrows.

“Legolas why are you in traveling clothes?” he asked, pulling out a chair for his son to sit in.

“I’m going to go playing in the woods and I don’t want to ruin my nice clothes…” he explained truthfully, sitting politely and glancing up briefly at Estel, who was seated directly across from him.

“Estel and Arwen have classes today.” Elrond announced, peeking down at the unruly little boy, who was currently blowing bubbles with his mouth into his glass of juice. He promptly removed the glass from his face to protest.

“But Adar Legolas is here!”

“You must attend classes. Just for this morning, then you may play.”

“But Adar—”

“You may play with Legolas at midday. Before that, you and Arwen must go to your classes.”

“But then Legolas will be all alone!” Estel protested, looking to Legolas for help. The young elf said nothing and looked up at his father, for guidance.

“It won’t take so very long, Estel.” Thranduil said with a smile. “Legolas will go with you.” Legolas furrowed his eyebrows. He had attended classes for the first 100 years of his life, and he did not want to attend any more. He quite preferred learning by doing, and the only way to do things was to skip classes. Thranduil gave him a knowing smile. Legolas scrunched his nose.

—o0o—

After breakfast was finished, the three children paraded out of the palace and down into the center of Rivendell; a sort of town filled with lovely houses of stone and the most beautiful blonde woods. The street was paved with cobble, and along the sides of the road were planted the most colorful flowers Legolas had ever seen. The Woodland Realm was shady all the time, and the foliage was mostly green and reddish moss, as well as a few bright ferns, but nothing of this caliber. No pristine pinks and yellows found their way into Mirkwood, and the only purple resided on the undersides of dark green leaves. Legolas wished he could have simply sat and admired those blooms all day, and was extremely reluctant to go inside when they reached the schoolhouse.

Arwen and Estel took their regular seats near the front of the room, next to one of the many windows, but Legolas was unsure what to do with himself. He was by far the oldest child in the place, and felt rather embarrassed as the other children looked at him, with his awkward lankiness and outlandish attire. His hair proved a bit of a surprise to the other children as well, for blonde hair was a rarity in Imladris. 

Legolas walked slowly up the center isle and leaned against the wall next to Estel’s desk and tried not to think about all of the eyes on him.

The instructor entered a moment later and was quite surprised to see Legolas. 

“Are you King Thranduil’s son?” she asked immediately, walking up to the young elf and looking him over intently. The entire class heard this statement and looked up again, a newfound interest in Legolas. He nodded slowly and reluctantly, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. This endeavor failed miserably. All of the children stood up from their desks and swarmed around the little elf, admiring his exotic appearance, brushing their hands over his clothes and through his hair. Legolas was beside himself, unsure what to do. He wished his father were there to instruct him in the proper protocol, for he did not want to offend, but also did not appreciate being pet in such a way. He stepped back and out of the crowd.

“Prince Legolas, have my quill! It’s from a dove!” one of the girls cooed, thrusting her pen into Legolas’ hand.

“Oh…T-thank you, but I—” he began, attempting to hand back the pen.

“No use my pencil! I’ve just sharpened it!” Another boy broke in.

“No, I don’t need—” he was cut off again.

“I’ve got a rubber!”

“You could sit at my desk!”

“No mine!”

“Could you sign your name on my notebook?!”

“Legolas!”

“Legolas!”

“Legolas!”

The young elf found himself backing away from the rest of the children, and was soon darting out the door, running back behind the small schoolhouse and into the woods, instinctively climbing a tree and hopping the branches until he was out of sight, then dropping to the ground and running back to the Palace, tears in his eyes that he dare not let escape. His father had taught him poise and grace, and he had been neither. His father would be disappointed.

Legolas sighed, deciding to find his father and explain what happened. He would know what to do and could give him advice.

The little elf wound his way through the corridors until he came to his father’s chamber. He pushed aside the sheer curtain in the doorway and tiptoed to the side of the bed where Thranduil was drying his hair. The elf king quite liked having hot baths, and was pleased when Elrond had offered one to him. He was weary from traveling so long, and the hot water soothed him.

When he finished drying his hair with the towel, he looked to Legolas with a quizzical sort of look.

“Things went ill at school?” he guessed, pulling Legolas into his lap. He had neglected to pull on a shirt before drying his hair, and his chest was sticky with dampness as Legolas leaned against him. The little elf nodded, playing with his father’s long, pin-straight hair, that was so much like his own.

“Would you like to tell me what happened, iôn nín?” he asked, carefully untying the bracers around Legolas’ wrists and rolling up his sleeves, for the child was hot from his run and from bottling his emotions. Though Elves were quite skilled at appearing aloof, it did not mean that they didn’t feel, and it was a struggle for a child like Legolas to hold his feelings inside. He was very sensitive compared to other elfish children his age, and it was very difficult for him to keep from getting upset at times. Thranduil always said he received the trait from his mother.

“Everyone was…they were crowding around me like I was a strange animal.” He said, snuggling into his father’s lap, their hair creating a cascading stream of pale gold.

“And why was that, Legolas?” he asked, scratching gently on the top of Legolas’ head, the boy’s once neat ponytail was now loose, and his flaxen hair hung around his reddened face.

“Everyone thought I was strange…They were all looking at me strangely.” He began,  
“And the instructor asked me if I was your son, and I said yes, and then everyone began to crowd me and gave me things and wanted me to sign my name on their books and sit at their desks, and I didn’t want to do any of that, but I could not tell them no…I did not want to be disrespectful, but I suppose running away was disrespectful too…”

“Oh no, Little One. You have done no wrong.” Thranduil cooed, wrapping his son in his strong, gentle arms. “Sometimes it is difficult to please everyone without sacrificing yourself, isn’t it?” Legolas nodded again, and Thranduil felt one of his hot tears against his shoulder. 

“Hush. Adar has you.”

“I wish I were not a prince. I wish I were like Estel and Arwen.”

“It is difficult to have so many eyes upon you all the time, but you must be noble and poised, and you must not run when you are put in a situation you do not wish to be in.” Legolas sniffled, feeling he had been reprimanded. Thranduil ran his hand up and down Legolas’ back.

“I was frightened, Adar…But I do not know why…”

“I know. You must learn to swallow your fear. Do not let it overpower you! You are my son. You are stronger than your fears!” he said with a smile, holding Legolas on his lap. “You are superior to your uncertainties, and you must always remember that. I know it is difficult sometimes, but you are the Prince of the Woodland Realm. You are my heir. You are my son, and I love you no matter what. And even though it is difficult, you must power through! So many people look up to you, Legolas. You are a wonder of this world.”

“No I’m not, Adar…I am too small. I am too frightened…I could not even stay in school for one morning.”

“Maybe not…Not yet. But valor will come with time. You have a long, wonderful life ahead of you! You will learn, and one day, you will overcome everything you fear.” Thranduil smiled at his son, and Legolas hugged his middle tight.

“I love you, Adar.”

“and I you, my little one.”

—o0o—

A bit later, at about an hour before midday, a group of elfish children peered around the garden path and into the circle of trees where Legolas was sitting quietly, listening to the birds sing and befriending a skittish chipmunk that found his way into the garden.

It took a moment, but one of the children mustered the courage to step into the clearing. She was a small girl, younger than Legolas, with dark hair that tumbled down past her slender waist.

“Your Highness?” she asked, bowing her head, her hair creating a curtain around her pretty face. The other children stepped forward tentatively as well, all of them bowing. Legolas looked up at them, and then stood.

“Please do not bow to me,” He said meekly, gently lifting the little girl’s head by her dainty chin. She looked up at him, puzzled.

“But we came to ask forgiveness…We were not welcoming today at school…”

“Nay,” Legolas said, bowing his own head, “I should be asking your forgiveness. I acted very ignoble indeed. I was wrong to run. It was not proper at all.”

“But we’re sorry anyway…” a boy piped from the back of the small group.

“I would be very pleased if you would take my quill anyway…If you’d like it…” a rather tall girl with deep red hair said, the girl who had first approached him just hours before. Legolas took the dove-feather quill carefully and smiled.

“Thank you.” He said, “I will keep it with me all the way back to the Woodland Realm.” The girl grinned.

“Would anyone like their notebook signed? I believe someone asked that of me earlier…” he asked, meaning to please everyone. Many of the children looked up with bright eyes and shining smiles.

“Could you sign mine please, Your Highness?” a girl asked, handing Legolas his leather bound notebook, the pages filled with notes and silly little drawings of battles with dragons and stick-figure kings defending crudely drawn cities.

“Please call me Legolas. I’d much rather be your friend than your ruler!”

“Really?! We could be friends with you?” a young girl, only just younger than Legolas, asked, rocking on her heals.

“Yes of course!” Legolas answered, “What is your name?” He asked, taking her notebook gingerly.

“Nellä.” She said meekly, rocking on her heals again.

“That is a wonderful name.” he said, writing in her notebook:

 

Nellä, it has been a pleasure to meet you. You are a remarkably kind Elf, and I will always consider you a friend.

Love from Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood

 

After his note he drew a small tree with a girl sitting underneath, meant to be Nellä. He handed her notebook back.

Nellä means ‘bells’ in the Woodland realm, like the kind you ring when someone’s at the door.” He smiled. Nellä laughed.

“It means ‘princess’ here!” she cooed. Legolas suddenly felt a bit bad. 

“Oh…That is a much better meaning than ‘bell’. I think you are more of a princess than a doorbell.” She blushed deeply, throwing herself around him in a monstrous hug. Legolas lost his footing and fell to the ground on his bottom, and everyone fell silent, staring, wondering what Legolas would do. He was silent for a moment as well, but soon began to laugh and stood, offering Nellä a hand. Laughter ensued from the rest of the small crowd.

“I will most certainly remember you now, Nellä!” Legolas cooed, brushing off his bottom, thankful he had opted for his traveling leggings; he would have ripped anything else. Nellä blushed again, and retreated back into the crowd, and as soon as she did, a small line formed, full of children with outstretched notebooks and small gifts for the young Prince.

Legolas sat down on a nearby bench and wrote a small note in everyone’s book, as well as a small drawing of whatever came to mind. 

A very little girl, about Arwen’s age, took Legolas’ hand and flattened it, readying it to receive something. She took a necklace from around her neck with a silver chain and a small bird carved of light green stone hung at the end.

“I could not take this.” Legolas said, giving it back to her, but she would not take it.

“I want you to have it.”

“But it is so lovely…Surely someone very important gave it to you.”

“But you are very important, too.”

“I cannot take this.” He said finally with a smile, placing the necklace back around her neck.

“Oh alright…” she said almost sadly, digging around in her small bag for a moment, eventually retrieving a very smooth, round river rock with a white stripe running down the middle. Legolas took this gladly, for it was only a simple gift, and she was so eager to give him something.

“Thank you.” He said with a smile, placing it safely in his pocket.

—o0o—

Legolas was in the garden for almost two hours, signing books and speaking with each of the children, sitting with them and simply talking as children often do. By the end of it all, Legolas had signed almost fifteen books, and had a pile of small gifts: everything from pretty feathers to small polished stones to silken pouches filled with apple seeds. Legolas remembered all of them, all of their names, their interests, and the wonderful gifts they had given him, and he smiled broadly as he watched them leave. He was suddenly not so upset about being the Prince. He was looking forward to a lifetime of making people smile.

When he finally made his way back inside, he found his father was waiting for him on the veranda. Thranduil knelt down as his son passed, and pulled him into a long hug.

“That is exactly what it means to be a Prince, iôn nín.” Thranduil said. Legolas only nodded and smiled.


	9. Estel's Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estel becomes a bit jealous of Legolas and decides to prove his worth, but all does not go as planned.

Legolas waited on the veranda for quite some time, expecting Estel and Arwen to return shortly, but when they did not, Legolas slipped off of the railing and began to wander down the road, back towards the small town. He perused the streets, listening to people speaking and birds chattering and the average hustle and bustle of a town. Mirkwood had many small settlements in among the trees, but the people of the Woodland Realm were not as boisterous as the people of Rivendell. Most went about their business quietly, giving a wave of speaking softly in Sindarin. Most of the people here, though, were far louder and all of them spoke either Westron or Quenya. Legolas was fluent in all three languages, his father made sure of that, and he found some of the conversation very odd. 

The Elves of Rivendell were quite gossipy. They all spoke about each other in ways both positive and negative, and all settled into bunches, as if huddling for warmth or to discuss some secret. Back home in Mirkwood, the communities were much smaller, and everyone was kind to one another. 

Though they had their own coinage, most people preferred to trade or simply give to each other. Nobody was any better than anyone else. But here there were clear boundaries between the rich and the poor. Their clothes were very different. The Elves of the upper class all wore clothing of fine material, mostly silk, and in many colors, while the less fortunate were in mostly cotton of white or pale grayish-brown. Legolas felt quite a large twinge of resent towards the upper class. In Mirkwood, everyone was relatively equal. They shared everything, and used their skills to help each other. The woodworker and the carpenter built the weaver’s house in return for clothing for the year. The blacksmith made Thranduil a sword in return for a mythril suit of armor. Everyone was happy and everyone got exactly what was needed. Only in rare cases was money used, only when one had nothing to give or had come on hard times, but in those cases, most Elves would simply give of themselves to help their neighbor. Here, everyone seemed a bit conceited and only cared for their own wellbeing. The rich looked upon the poor with resentment, and the poor looked upon the rich with just as much bitterness. Legolas felt guilty wearing his blue silk tunic as he walked by an elf about his own age, sitting on the curb, with no shirt at all.

Legolas removed his tunic and looked it over. It wasn’t anything special. He had so many that were near identical at home, and this boy had nothing. He folded his shirt neatly, and then crouched down, handing it gingerly to the boy. 

“—I…I can’t—” he stammered, looking rather ashamed and trying to give the tunic back. Legolas pushed his hand away.

“I want you to have it.” He smiled.

“B-but you’re the king’s son.”

“Yes…” Legolas said, almost as a question, as if asking if it really mattered.

“And…I have nothing to give you…”

“I do not need anything in return. It is a gift.” He smiled again, standing.

“Really?” the boy asked, getting to his feet as well “But what will you wear?” he asked, looking over Legolas, who’s skinny middle was now exposed. His cheeks became a bit red as he looked down at all of his ribs. He was so terribly thin and weak from being so sheltered all his life, but he swallowed his insecurities and only shrugged with a grin.

“I shall return to the palace later and get another. It is very warm. I will be alright.” Legolas saw tears shining in the boy’s clear, brown eyes. He suddenly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the young prince. Legolas was unsure what to do at first, but returned the embrace after a quick moment, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder. Legolas felt hot tears near his shoulder and stood the boy back up, wiping his tears away with his thumb.

“Do not cry!” the prince said with a smile and a bit of a chuckle, for these were not tears of sorrow, but tears of joy.

“I do not know what else to do!” the boy said, returning the grin, his cheeks red.

“Put it on! I’m sure it will fit you perfectly! You’re just my size.” Legolas said. The boy slipped the tunic on carefully, slowly, as if afraid it would shatter. Once it was on, Legolas smiled.

“It suits you very well.” He said with a smile. The boy took on a sort of glow as he looked down at himself, smoothing the front of the garment.

“Do you really think so?” he asked, examining the tunic from shoulder to cuffs, admiring the beading around the wrists.

“Yes! It looks very nice with your dark hair, I think.” The prince said with a smile. The boy grinned, batting his shoulder-length, deep brown hair off of his face. Legolas’ hair was kept long, as was his father’s. It was a sign of royalty; they did not have to work, so they did not have to worry that their hair would become caught or tangled in their craft. Though it was more symbolic than anything, it did create more of a distinction between the classes. Some of the people on the street, even those who considered themselves of a higher class, eyed Legolas suspiciously, for all of their hair was either shoulder length or only slightly past.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” The boy said with a smile.

“Legolas, please.” The young prince grinned. “I do not like being called ‘your highness’. It sounds strange to me. I am no better than anyone else.”

“But you are! You are so much better than everyone here.” The boy said, walking beside Legolas as he continued down the street.

“Why? Because I wear a circlet on my head? Because I am Thranduil’s son? Those are not good reasons—”

“No. Well…Not only those things…you are better because you saw someone in need and helped them. That is more than anybody else has done. That is why you are better. That is why you deserve to be called royalty.”

“You are very wise indeed.” Legolas said with another smile.

“I’m sorry…but I have to go home now…My Adar and Nana are expecting me home—Forgive me—”

“That’s alright! You have a very good story to tell now!”

“Yes I do! Thank you, Prince Legolas.” Legolas smiled and watched as the boy ran down the street, towards his home, and he continued up the road in the opposite direction. He felt rather exposed and naked, without his shirt in public, but continued walking nonetheless, looking for Estel. He had only just turned the corner when someone grabbed his arm and yanked him into a thin sidewalk between two stone buildings.

Legolas looked up at his captor, and was surprised to see three boys, all of them slightly older than he.

“You are the king’s son?” one of them asked gruffly.

“Why does that matter?” Legolas asked, standing and looking the boy in the eyes. He did not want people judging him before they knew him just because he was part of the royal family. He was Legolas first, not ‘Thranduil’s son’ first. He was his own person and did not need a crown to tell him who he was.

Though he looked the boy in the face, Legolas was a bit shorter than the others, and he felt terribly small, but he did not let it show. He was Legolas Thranduilion, and he was a prince. He needed to swallow his fear and take charge. That was what his father said, and that was what he needed to do.

“Well if it doesn’t matter, I suppose it would be alright if I take this.” The boy said, taking the silver circlet Legolas wore and giving it to one of the others.

“That was my father’s. Could I please have it back?” Legolas asked, very calmly and with diplomacy, how he had seen his father do while in disputes. The boys only laughed at the little prince.

“I don’t think so. Not without paying for it.” The second boy said, spinning the crown around on his finger.

“Please stop it. I would be terribly upset if anything were to happen to—”

“You gave Lindir something! Why shouldn’t we have something too?” the third boy said, meaning the boy Legolas had given his shirt to.

“You are not in need of a diadem.” Legolas said, an undertone of anger in his birdlike voice. The first boy slapped him across the face, causing Legolas to fall to the ground again. He pushed himself up against the wall, his silver-blue eyes wide with fear.

“Look, Rainir!” the first boy said to the boy holding Legolas’ circlet. “I think the little Princeling is frightened!” Legolas stiffened as the three stepped closer to him. He felt tears stinging behind his eyes, and was stricken with terror when he felt one escape and roll down his reddened cheek.

“You’ve made him cry. Well done.”

“He hasn’t even got anything to cry about!” the boys said, laughing. Legolas quickly wiped the tear away, feeling weak and feeble for letting the older boys see him cry. Legolas wasn’t weak by any means, but he did have a bit of trouble keeping his feelings to himself. His father was doing his best to help Legolas keep himself together more effectively, but the little Elf was still working on his emotions, and was not yet able to keep from crying when he was frightened or upset.

“Please give my diadem back.” Legolas said again, doing his best not to let his fear show, though he had already made his fear evident. Legolas did not receive an answer. Instead he received another hard slap across the face, this time making his cheek bleed. He inhaled sharply in pain, and shivered as he felt the warm liquid running down his cheek. Legolas melted to the ground, sitting against the wall with his head down against his knees, his legs pulled up to his chest. He felt one of the boys kick him in the ribs, and realized that his nose had started to bleed as well as the gash in his cheek.

“Hey!” Legolas looked up at the new voice: the voice of a little girl. Arwen and Estel were standing at the entrance of the alleyway. 

“Estel—”

“Oh look. If it isn’t Elrond’s little pet human and his crybaby.”

“Leave him alone.” Estel said, his voice strong, his eyes dark. He pushed Arwen along up the road, meaning for her to continue home. She ran along willingly.

“What are you going to do, Estel?” Rainir asked, his hands on his hips.

“Nothing if you leave Legolas alone.” Estel tried to keep his composure, though inside he was very excited. Legolas had seemed so pristine and brave and flawless, but now he was sitting in an alleyway, crying and defenseless, and Estel had to rescue him. This could be his chance to prove himself! Estel felt that Legolas thought he was superior. Though the Elf meant nothing of the sort, Estel thought that saving the young prince would prove that he wasn’t just a weak child.

“Oh please, Estel,” the boy holding the circlet said, “You can’t do anything. It’s his own fault! He won’t share!” the boy smirked, and the third boy spit in Legolas’ hair.

“Please stop…” Legolas pleaded, covering his head with his arms in an effort to protect himself from the assailment.

“Bow.” The first boy said. Legolas looked up at him, puzzled.

“Riel said bow, pretty boy!” Legolas sat on his knees and placed his head to the ground, willing to do anything to make the torture stop. Estel could take no more. He jumped onto Riel’s back and pulled the boy’s dark, shoulder-length hair, but was quickly whacked off by Rainir. The third boy then grabbed Estel by the hair and threw him up against the opposite wall. Legolas scrambled to his feet and over to Estel, offering the boy a hand and helping him stand up. Estel took it, secretly reluctant. This was not what he had in mind when he planned on rescuing Legolas.

Estel stood up and drew his small dagger, meaning to be intimidating, but Legolas had already been grabbed again, and his arm was being twisted behind his back.

“Ouch! Please don’t—” Legolas cooed, trying to free himself without further harming his twisted arm. Estel held his knife up to Legolas’ captive, prompting further twisting of the Elf’s arm.

“Let him go!”

“If you step closer, his arm is broken.” The boy answered. Legolas looked at Estel pleadingly, though the little Elf wasn’t sure what he wanted the boy to do.

“Stop, Estel—put the knife away.” Legolas said. Estel sighed and lowered his weapon, looking down to his feet, but instead of letting Legolas go, the Rainir twisted his arm farther, and the next thing Estel heard was a terrible snapping sound and Legolas cry out in pain. Rainir let Legolas’ feeble body crumple to the ground like a sack of bruised apples. No sooner had Legolas fallen to the ground was the light in the alleyway dimmed by a tall figure in the entrance. All of the boys looked up, save Legolas who was laying on the ground, clutching his awkwardly twisted arm.

“Thranduil—” Estel whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Elf King asked, his tone harsh.

“Aww, Legolas’ daddy came to—” one of the boys began, but a swift kick to the shin from one of his friends quickly made him hush up.

“w—we—we were just—”

“Just. What?” Thranduil asked. Estel looked up at the King who just this morning had fed baby bunnies with him in the garden. Now he stood before him, a terrible and dark figure, instilling fear into the hearts of the boys who had harmed his son. Arwen peeked out from Behind Thranduil’s pale robes, hardly noticed as everyone looked up into the King’s eyes.

“I—I—I…” Riel stammered, trying to come up with a fair excuse as to why Legolas’ circlet was in his hand. He quickly dropped the silver crown, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Arwen swiftly snatched it up and held the silver vines carefully in her little hands.

“That’s what I thought.” Thranduil said, taking a sweeping step forward. “Go home. All of you leave my sight immediately before I think of something less kind to have you do.” All of the boys bolted back down the alley, terrified of the Elf King. The moment they were out of sight, Thranduil softened and knelt down, lifting Legolas up and holding hi in his arms. Legolas yelped as his arm was moved, and Thranduil realized the extent of his son’s injury.

“oh Legolas,” the king said, holding his son closer, keeping his broken arm very still. “Come. Lord Elrond will fix you right up. Estel,” Thranduil added, looking to the little boy. Estel bowed his head, waiting for his scolding, but none came. “Thank you for being brave.” Thranduil smiled at the little boy, and Estel nodded, unsure of what else to do. 

Together the company walked back up to the palace.

—o0o—

A few hours later, Legolas was fast asleep in the healing chambers, his arm placed back in proper alignment and wrapped safely in a plaster cast. Thranduil sat at his bedside, running his hand through his son’s blonde hair and listening to the bustle around him as Elrond and the other healers tended to the minor wounds soldiers had sustained from training.

Estel entered the large room and approached Thranduil slowly, as if waiting for permission. He sat down on the stool next to the bed when Thranduil smiled, looking up from Legolas for only a moment to greet the little boy.

“Hello Estel.” The king said, continuing to brush the blond hair back from Legolas’ face.

“hello, your Highness.” Estel replied, looking at Legolas’ sleeping form. A pang of guilt surged through the boy. He had wished for this: he had wanted Legolas to fail at something, he wanted to see the Elf in need of assistance. The prince’s porcelain face Estel had been so jealous of was now sealed shut with a strip of gauze. His strong arm he had used to shoot his bow was now broken and immobile. The boy felt tears behind his eyes.

“What is wrong, Estel?” Thranduil asked, “You were very brave today. I’m sure Legolas is greatly in your debt.”

“No,” the child said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I wanted this to happen…I was so jealous, I just—”

“Hush.” Thranduil said, placing a gentle hand onto the boy’s shoulder. “This is not of your doing, even if you did wish it. All people become envious at times.”

“But I should not have been jealous of Legolas…I am not as good as he is, but he is a Prince…”

“Oh Estel. You are not any less of a person than Legolas is. He may be a prince, but he is also a child, just like you.” The king smiled, “And I’m sure that there are things that you are talented at that Legolas cannot do nearly as well.”

“No…Legolas can run fast and climb trees and shoot a bow, and he’s thin and has a nice face and light hair…” Estel listed, thinking of all of his flaws: his tangled hair, his scratched face and crooked nose, his stocky middle. He was not like Legolas. He would never be as good as Legolas.

“That may be true,” Thranduil began, “but you are courageous and carefree. Legolas is very cautious. He will not take risks, even if they are small.” Estel shrugged. “And you are always happy and lighthearted. Legolas is so concerned with pleasing everyone. He is so preoccupied with being the perfect prince, that he never has any fun! That is why I brought him here. I knew that you would distract him from himself!” Estel smiled, his cheeks becoming red.

“But I cannot shoot a bow nearly as well as Legolas can…” he noted.

“Legolas is quite talented with a bow, even among our people,” Thranduil agreed, “but he could not use a sword in battle! Not yet. You are more talented with a blade than any child, Elf or no, I have ever seen. If I were to put together an army, I would want you to be on my side!” Estel grinned.

“Really?”

“Yes of course! I would be frightened to fight against you! And, do not tell Legolas I’ve mentioned this, but he has always wanted dark hair like yours. His Nana has beautiful auburn hair, almost like yours, and Legolas has always wished his hair were the same. He does not like his blonde hair. He believes it makes him stand out too much. He also thinks he is too thin. I think so too, but he doesn’t eat. He eats so little!”

“But his hair is beautiful! And he’s very thin and graceful…I’m chubby…” Estel said, im awe that anyone could dislike Legolas’ golden hair, and a bit embarrassed at his stocky tummy.

“He would say the same of yours! None of the Elves have hair that curls like yours. Legolas would love wavy dark hair. He would also gladly trade bodies with you. He is not as strong as you are.”

“Maybe we could swap!” Estel said with a chuckle.

“I would like that…” Legolas mumbled with a grin. Estel laughed.

“Do you feel better, Legolas?” he asked, sitting on the bed next to his friend. The little Elf nodded.

“My arm feels a bit like pudding, though…” he noted, “and my nose feels all smushed.”

“Well…it doesn’t look smushed.” Thranduil reassured him with a warm smile.

“Thank you for helping me, Adar…I was very scared…Oh no! Did you get my circlet back?!” Legolas asked, suddenly very distressed. “Oh no Adar that was yours! I’m sorry—”

“Not to worry, little one. Arwen rescued it for you. It is waiting for you in your chamber.” Legolas sighed with relief and smiled.

“Tell her than you for me…” he said, closing his eyes again. Elves always became drowsy when they were hurt. It was their way of healing. Many times, an Elf would go to sleep after being injured and wake with no wound remaining.

“Legolas why were you in town anyway?” Thranduil asked.

“I was looking for Estel. He didn’t come to the palace with the rest of the children from class.”

“And where were you, Estel?” Thranduil asked, looking to the boy.

“I was picking flowers with Arwen in the field. She said she wanted to bring some back for Legolas because he was upset…”

“That was kind of her.” Thranduil said with a smile, returning his attention to Legolas, who had fallen back to sleep.

“Do you think he will be better soon?” the boy asked, looking at his friend.

“Oh yes. His arm will probably need to be wrapped for a few weeks, but he will be up and playing again by tomorrow, I am sure. He can be a bit dramatic, though. He’ll probably complain about his nose or arm all day.” Thranduil said with a smirk and a chuckle. Estel laughed, his cheeks turning red.

“I don’t think so. Legolas is brave.”

“Yes, but he is very sheltered.” Estel giggled. “He can be a bit of a crybaby.” Thranduil whispered. Estel continued laughing. 

“I was very jealous of Legolas before…but I suppose I’m alright too.” Estel smiled.

“You are most certainly alright, Estel. You are a wonderful child and a wonderful friend. Legolas has trouble making friends. Though he has quite a few playmates back home, he always seems a bit withdrawn. He’s a bit odd, for lack of a better term.” Estel nodded in understanding. “You have brought out a light in him that I have never seen before, and I am so pleased that you did.” Thranduil added with a smile.

“I’m glad I did too.” The little boy answered.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! I just wanted to straighten so things out, though, so I don't get lots of confused messages!
> 
> I have this story posted on FFN as well, and I received many comments concerning many different things. First, Estel IS Aragorn. Yes, I did receive a comment asking that. 
> 
> I also received many messages concerning the ages of the characters. I am a hard-core Lord of the Rings fan, and I am fully aware that the ages are off. Arwen would technically be older than Legolas, Legolas would be far older than he is depicted in this story, and Elladan and Elrohir should be older than Arwen. I changed their ages for the sake of humor. Littler kids are funnier! I also wanted Aragorn and Legolas to be the same age.
> 
> Finally, all of the elfish words used in my stories will be in Quenya unless otherwise specified. Yes, I am aware that Legolas and Thranduil would have been speaking Sindarin. I did this to avoid confusion with readers and to save myself the work of translating the same words for two languages. Sorry if this bothers you.
> 
> If you have any ideas for things you'd like to see Estel, Legolas, and the rest of the bunch do, drop a line! I'd be happy to hear your ideas! If I use one of your ideas for a chapter, I'll mention your name in the notes to give credit where it is due! If you have any questions that aren't answered here, concerning the story or just the Lord of the Rings in general, feel free to ask! I love geeking out about the LOTR, so ask away!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story! I already have five or six chapters written, so I'll update regularly! I love comments and critiques! Thanks for reading!


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